A High-Tide Cold...

I have a high-tide cold ©™ and have been off work in bed all week. Obviously I am missing work terribly. WoooHOOOO.

I feel a differential between types of colds is required as the effect they can on one (pawsh ino!) ranges greatly. I'm suggesting tides, stay with me…

A low-tide cold has no snot or other visible symptoms and can normally be chased away with some rest in a pub, or a Lemsip. You feel crap but still have to get on with everything you normally do. You get very little sympathy and lots of poor man-flu jokes.

A high-tide cold though is when your nose, mouth and ears (yes) seem to leak. Much like a ‘high-tide’ when everything, I mean everything, the air, the walls, the sofa, that you come near to become slightly damp due to your presence. It’s as those, again like a ‘high-tide’, all the crap, rubbish and gunk from the ocean’s floor is pulled up with the tide and then just thrown onto the beach. Except it’s your nose and mouth (and ears), and everyone around you reacts as though you are something from an excellent B-movie exploding and about to kill them.  Your only choice is to hide away from public sight for the public good, lest your plague infect us all, in bed, being ignored and lonely, forced to read crap on the internet or suffer the indignity of daytime television.

(Aaaaaaaah-CHOOOOOO!)

What have I learnt lying in bed reading and surfing (the internet, obv.)?

Lots of stuff. 

Lots and lots of bloody useless stuff. That one day in a pub quiz, or a triv-bare-knuckle-battle, I am sure, will be incredibly impressive and handy to know.

However there was one thing I learnt that is helpful right now and I didn't need the internet, or my phone, or a book, or anything fancy at all.

I learnt that BabyBoy1 doesn't give a crap if I'm snotty, smelly, grumpy and in bed all day. He loves me anyway. All he sees is the funny big one, with the least hair, that's generally good for a laugh and normally disappears all day... suddenly at home all day, in one easy to find place.

BabyBoy1 loved me being at home, he was my favourite visitor by miles.

'DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA' (* 'Ah! there you are father')

<Climbs onto my chest>

Oww oww

'DAAAAAAAA DAAAAAAA' (* 'You're not normally here during the day')

<Gives snotty hug and kiss>

'DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA' (* 'See you later')

<Climbs down, steals my shiny phone>

Bey!

<Toddles>

A Sharp Cookie

Miss4 is not feeling 100% well.

Whilst Team Parent (yay!) run through our exhaustive medical tests...

1. Hand on forehead temperature reading

2. Prod with stick

3. Name your favourite colour

4. Use the word licence as a verb

5. Balance this budget

What? We could all share the wealth? By jove!

6. Cake or biscuit?

WTF? Biscuit? <Dials 999>

...Miss4's brain has latched onto the idea that maybe she doesn't have to go school today.

She's a sharp cookie.

Boy8 wouldn't have worked that out. Miss4 does though. She may seem like she's in her own mad world of bonkerness (real word) but really it’s just an elaborate act.

(Wibble)

The moment Team Parents (yay!) opened the 'Stay-at-home' door she shoved her boot in the door and kept it from shutting, metaphorically speaking.

Non-metaphorically speaking she threw her school clothes out of her room, and starting saying no a lot.

At the same time of joy BabyBoy1 is full of cold and his nose is streaming, constantly. He also keeps hurting himself, as he can climb and do loads of things of amazing things, which is brilliant!

But his decision making skills have quite caught up and he's a bit like a boy-lemming...

‘WAHHHHHH’ (* ‘I've hurt myself’)

What happened?

‘WAHHHHHH’ (* ‘That door hurt me’)

Did you run into it?

‘WAHHHHHH’ (* ‘Yes... as fast as I can!’)

Didn't you do that just ten minutes ago?

‘WAHHHHHH’ (* ‘Yes and it really, really hurt then as well’)

Hmmm... <Hugs tiny boy until tears stop>

<Runs at door again>

Which is why when I got upstairs to see how far along the getting dressed path of happiness.

I found Mrs. Amazing holding BabyBoy1 and trying to coax Miss4 into getting dressed, one handed. Which is mostly impossible.

It's not going well.

I send Mrs. Amazing off to cater to BabyBoy1 as he needs attention and guarding, in equal measures.

I roll up my sleeves (not metaphorically), make a few prayers to Freddie, Bruce and George, alter my will, and then go in to see Miss4 and 'CHAT' about getting her dressed for school.

 

(Right... I'm all ready for Miss4 now.... Oh wait... I gotta pee...)

The main thing I need to do though.

Is keep my temper in check. Low temper. Don't get cross and lose control.

I can easily out grump Miss4 and make her get dressed.

But she can remove all her clothes in a little under 10 seconds at the moment -and that is not skill I want to promote-.

So brute force isn't going to work. Well it would work, temporarily, but then it would fail, after I've left for work.

Plus I hate having to make Miss4 do anything. It makes me feel like a bully and a swine.

Daddies should be gentlemen, even if they are making you get dressed for school. Gentlemen, not pompous snobby asses, gentlemen. There's a considerable difference.

Whilst I know it is good for Miss4 to understand what men can do, and how they can act, and how male anger and muscles can, and do, go together.

I'd rather I verbally explained it, than show her. Anymore.

What Miss4 needs to learn from me now is that her Dad can is just as good at negotiating, talking, listening and making out life's a game she wants to play.

Basically I need to convince Miss4 that I can be a bit like Mrs. Amazing.

Still... I have to do things my way. I am not Mrs. Amazing, I cannot handle situations like she does. Only she can do that.

If I try and copy her, Miss4 will see through me in no-seconds, and it will fail.

I have to be myself, but with Mrs. Amazing's compassionate manner. -I don't stand a chance-.

I try some opening gambits to see how bad the grump is...

(Please note that the entirety of the conversation is had with me talking to her back, as she is face down on her bed, bottom in the air. She knows I hate that).

Shall we get dressed and surprise Mummy!

'No! DON'T WANT TO GO TO SCHOOL'

Miss4Bestie will be at school, won't it be fun to see her?

'No!'

We could scoot to school? You love scooting?

<A moment's waver...>

'No'

If you get dressed, you can have some chocolate?

'No'

Would you like some chocolate?

'No'

<Is shocked>

<Eats chocolate to save it from going to waste>

Chocolate refusal. That's some bad grump.

That's it! I'm out of ideas. I'm getting my convincing hammer.

Change of tact required. I go get her school clothes. Which for some bizarre reason we keep in our bedroom (hey, kids don't improve anyone's sanity, you know...).

I bring back options so Miss4 can choose and feel empowered and more in control of the situation.

Dress or skirt today?

<Points and takes dress>

<Internally fist pumps>

<Watches as dress is thrown out of room again>

Oh...

<Miss grabs skirt and throws that as well>

Ah...

I am getting a bit annoyed by now.

Miss4 is doing this utterly on purpose and I am letting it get to me. Miss4 knows what her power in this situation is, and is exercising it to her full extent.

She's refusing to get dressed! The clever swine.

There are four solutions to this problem:

1) Miss4 realises the error of her ways and gets herself dressed

2) Miss4 is sent to school as is and learns why clothes in November are so important

3) I continue being calm and supportive and eventually get her dressed

4) I undo all my good compassion work, and force into her clothes

I go for option three... Oh all right. I didn't.

Shamefully, I opt for four. It does not go well.

It just makes her madder, and I've nearly been kicked in the face twice. Having been hit in the arm repeatedly.

You remember I said she was a smart cookie?

Well whilst being hit by her little hands I boasted told her she'd never hurt me that way. Lucky I managed to duck as she instantly stopped hitting me, and went for a head kick instead.

#SoProud

I get her t-shirt on, which I am sure should be called a blouse, or a shirt, but I have been mocked enough about that, so am happy to go with t-shirt.

But that's as far as I get. I could continue forcing her clothes on. But I know I am being a bully.

She knows I can make her, but she is still fighting and screaming. And that is what knocks out of my rut.

Miss4 is well aware I can make her get dressed. In fact I am currently doing that. I have told her that is what is going to happen. I have warned her. But still, still!, she is refusing to get dressed.

Why? What the smeg is she thinking?

I never did work out the why.

I think she just didn't want to go to school today. We'd had a lovely weekend. Hell I didn't want to go to work. I'd rather be playing Lego.

What I did manage to do, and I am pretty proud of me for it. I managed to jump back on option three and hold on.

I let her rage at me.

I let her vent every frustration and bit of anger in her tiny body at me. Without reacting or getting cross back. I gave her a Daddy sized safe place to feel.

(Please step into Daddies therapy-octagon... No spitting or eye eye gouging...)

Miss4 felt out of control and cross. Her plan was to trash her room. Which makes sense, doing so would regain her control of the situation and it had the added benefit it would probably piss me right off. Except it didn't.

I let her hit me, slap me, kick me. If it hurt I said so and cried a bit. But otherwise I ignored it.

She threw toys trying to smash them. Which seems like a good tactic from her, except that the house rule is toys broken like that just go in the bin. No fixing. Bin-town. I point this out and suddenly she becomes a bit more fussy about what she throws.

Tidy and sorted toys were untidied and unsorted with venom. Most thrown at me. I did a lot of blocking.

She screamed and screamed. So loud, so painful. I said nothing.

She cried, she screamed, she raged.

Eventually she sat down, rage gone.

Remorse and shame kicking in, well a four year olds version. She wasn't happy her room was a mess. She was worried she may have broken one of her toys.

And she realised that if Mummy saw the mess her room was in, she might actually be killed (of course not). That kind of thing.

I don't tell her off. I don't lecture. In fact I do not mention her rage at all.

Instead I hand her a way out of this situation. Like I have come home to find she has bludgeoned a future prat-boyfriend to death, I just get out a mop and bucket and start cleaning.

I fix the situation for her.

I'll tidy up… <Chucks skirt at Miss4> ... whilst you get dressed

By the time I have finished tidying, she is dressed.

Miss4 runs downstairs and hugs Mrs. Amazing.

Mrs. Amazing doesn't really understand why she is getting a sorry hug. And we don't explain. But Miss4 needed to do that, for herself.

As we leave for school (I am dropping off, not going) Miss4 stops and looks at me...

'You said that if I got dressed, all on my own...'

Yes...

'... there would be chocolate?'

Ha ha no chance

It's all gone

Like I said, a sharp cookie that one.

3 Days Without Boy8... (Woohoo)

Boy8 is off on a school residential this week. Woooohooo!

That means he'll be gone for three days.

<Does celebration dance>

((a) brilliant fireworks, (b) where did you get them from.... <Runs>)

I think it's brilliant that his school does things like this.
<Big smile>

It's such an enriching experience for the kids, staying away from home for a few days, with all their mates. Marvellous.

Although I do feel a bit sorry for the poor teachers, each holding their teeny tiny straws, heading off to look after a large amount of eight year olds for two nights.

Talk about taking your work on holiday. That sucks.

I am sure these brilliant and selfless teachers get huge bonuses in their pay packets for this kind of work. You'd have be some kind of amazing idiot of a politician to not appreciate how hard and taxing looking after, basically, a small army of lunatics is.

I don't know why I mention it really. It's 2015, everyone knows teachers are worth paying well, I am sure the remuneration is brilliant...

Anyway... 

Boy8 is off for three days pinch me.

We're gonna miss him woohoo a lot, it won't be the same at home without him.

<Does 12" version of celebration dance >

Boy8 is really excited. REALLY excited.

He's already packed a few times. The essentials obviously. Toys. Pants. Posters...

Boy8 and his mates have been discussing the trip at school and decided that having posters on the trip was very important. They’re quite mad.

So Boy8 didn't take it all that well when Mrs. Amazing explained he wasn't going to be taking any posters with him, for a three day trip. He gave us just another reason to miss him more.

Wooo!

Boy8’s time away will do everyone good.

For Team Parents (yay!) it will give us a chance to spend more time at the pub with Miss4 and BabyBoy1. Focus our attention on them for a change.

Team Parents (yay!) won't be outnumbered for a whole three days <Gets shivers>.

Bliss! One child to an adult. Lovely. 
No additional child acting as sweeper as we try and manage the other two.

Three whole days!

For Boy8 it's a tiny slice of freedom, away from his cruel and O-O-O-so mean parents.

He will get three whole days, with his mates, making his own choices and decisions. (Sounds like a stag do to me).

Boy8 will love it, and I am sure will rise to the challenge.

Of course after three days he is likely to be exhausted and knackered from acting all grown up and making decisions himself. And not sleeping at all, and not eating anything, and just running round like a loon for seventy two hours.

He should be pretty desperate to come home to where everyone knows his name...

(Beer... er... Beena please Dad (hic)...)

<Boy8 arrives at home>

Norm!

Who the devil are you?

'Boy8! Your big boy! Your dude!!! Boy8!'

No... sorry... can't place you

'It's me Dad! Come on you must remember, it's only been three days!'

<Thinks>

No... Are you a friend of Miss4's?

'Wait I know...' <Sticks finger up nose, picks it, then eats it>

That was disgustin... BOY8! Dude!

<Hugs>

The last time Boy8 went away I missed him for a second.

I think it was only two nights last time. But that was enough to highlight to me how much Boy8 helps out. I know, it seems incredible and frankly very, very difficult to believe, but it's true.

Actually he helps out a bit more than I thought.

It was only once he was gone that I noticed how much he does...

Example 1:
<Sits down with BabyBoy1 to give him his milk>

Where's the remote?

Miss4: ‘Up there, I can't reach it’

Boy8, pass me the remote... oh yeah... damn it...

<Thinks>

Jump Miss4, jump for all your worth, the bloody Night Garden is on next!!!

Example 2:
'Miss4 has hit DEFCON 2, this is a Team Parents (yay!) emergency!'

What on earth are you talking about?
What now? <Is confused>

'I need your help with the Princess, Obi-Wan'

Right!

<Dons ice hockey goalie kit>

Boy8 watch BabyBoy1 will ya...Damn it... 
<Picks up BabyBoy1 and takes him into the affray>

Don't look directly into her eyes... Argh!

<Falls in battle, but saves BabyBoy1>

Example 3:
Oh [Insert-your-favourite-deity-here]! This stuff is rank!

<Nearly hurls>

BabyBoy1 want are you eating to produce this?

Are you eating poo?

<Goes for wet wipe, but packet is empty>

Boy8? I need your help... Damn it...

<Thinks>

OK BabyBoy1, I will be five seconds...

DO NOT MOVE! STAAAAY!

<Is back in three seconds>

<Everything is covered in poo>

<BabyBoy1 is missing>

Example 4:

Who wants to see how many times they can bounce this potato on their head?

Mrs. Amazing: 'No thanks idiot boy'

<Miss4 shakes head>

<Whispers>'Idiot boy'

BabyBoy1? Dude? You wanna play 'Potato Head-Butt'?

'RARRRRRRRRRRR' (* 'I will eat that')

<BabyBoy1 starts eating the potato>

O great... now you've gone and made this look like a stupid game...

The truth is whilst Boy8 is gone, if I really am honest with myself, at the end of the day, with all things being considered, simply and without any further a-do, weighing up all alternatives, cutting through the endless crap Mrs. Amazing is going to miss Boy8 a lot.

OK FINE! I'll probably miss him a bit….when I need stuff.

I’ll miss him every bloody moment until he gets back, the loveable smegger. Constant, CONSTANT, worrying he is alright and having fun, and behaving. Team Parents (yay!) will not relax until he is back. Nor will his Dad drop his guard and say he is missing him. He’s more likely to make jokes about it. (And yes, I do talk about myself in the 3rd person, it’s kewl)

(This image is from the very marvellous Pon and Zi web site)

Of course whilst Boy8 is gone, I have offered to look after his Star Wars toys... in case they get lonely... and all his Lego... and sweets... 
<Does shifty eyes>

Miss4 and BabyBoy1 want to help too.