The Last Really Crap Parenting Moment Of The Year

As we nose dive towards the end of the year, what better way to end than to tell you all of what I hope is the final crap parenting moment of the year. But seeing as there are thirteen hours remaining in the day I'm not holding my breath but you never know I might get lucky.

I take partial blame for last night but The Chancellor will claim that I should take full responsibility. In my haste to play my new football computer game that had arrived while we were away on holiday, I decided to put forward the wee man's routine by half an hour. I was filled with such childish glee at my new game that I might have, possibly could have, almost certainly neglected to put a nappy on the wee man before I put him to bed. To use a football analogy, I took my eye off the ball.

Things were going swimmingly, I got some game time, ate a pizza and then fell asleep happily thinking of tactics. Then at three in the morning after The Chancellor went to settle him after he woke up, she came back in the bedroom claiming he had wet himself. Do our nappies not claim to be dry for 12 hours? Has he pissed that much? The poor little man had indeed wet himself and was soaking wet all over. As we undressed him it became apparent that he was alas not wearing a nappy and the finger of blame swung round and smacked me square in the face. How long he had been sleeping soaking wet I don't know but I really did feel bad for him.

He didn't seem to mind somehow and saw it as an excuse to run around the house nude while sucking on a dummy at three in the morning. The only saving grace is that he didn't have a crap, I don't dare think of the mess that would have left.

After midnight tonight I will have a clean slate that I can fill up again with rubbish parenting. Bring it on 2013, bring it on.

jpr

Be Careful What You Say

One man, a wee bairn and The Chancellor have made it home from festive gatherings with one man feeling slightly worse for wares after numerous days of Christmas drinking. A detox is now in force well before most other people feel guilty for their excesses and dash towards their nearest gym. Not to say I will be going to the gym but a decrease in wine consumption and a move to low fat butter may be the first measures to be implemented. Like all other people who attempt to give up all the things they like in an effort to feel good, I'm not sure how long I will last. Attempt though I must, I need to be a good example for the wee man.

Something that doesn't need any dieting is the wee man's constant and speedy development which is becoming something of a delight for us. This phase in his life seems, so far, to be the phase which has seen the most change in personality, intelligence and appearance. The Chancellor is all excited as he is now giving hugs out to anyone who wants one, which is somewhat dangerous but as he hugs his mum she is OK with this.  

As he is now copying us and starting to talk we have to watch ourselves and make sure we don't say any rude words in front of him. I need take some words out of my day to day vocabulary and I need to stop telling him how lovely Rachel Riley is or he will grow up thinking that The Chancellor is just my housemate rather than my wife.

One story from someone we know was about a child who every time he took a step down the stairs said "For fuck sake" and the same child who whenever he dropped something off his high chair said "Shit". We must watch our words or social judgement will be severe. Another story was from a friend of my family who said her son starting saying he was putting on his "Sodding shoes" after the mother kept asking him to put on his sodding shoes in frustration. Very funny but scary but mostly funny.


jpr

The Good, The Bad And The Tantrums

Apologies if you have logged on and found nothing new on this blog. I had lots of excuses lined up as to why I couldn't write one today but none of them sounded good or real and in truth I totally forgot. But as I'm a slave now to it I scurried down stairs in my parent's house too turn on the internet so I could write something, anything.


As we head back home tomorrow the wee man returns with a few new tricks and abilities under his utility belt. Like Batman, when the time is right he uses them to wonderful affect.

There is the good-turning around to get off the bed legs first.

The bad- continually trying to get his hands on his grandad's blue ray player and hitting it hard with a plastic fish.

And finally the ugly- tantruming very loudly when remote controls are taken off him.

The tantruming is something that seems to happening with more frequency. I need him to know that one doesn't tantrum when faced with annoyance or adversity. I don't think Bruce Wayne tantrums or any other super hero, apart from the Hulk. The less of Christiano Ronaldo he sees the better.

The fish and the blue ray is mildly funny, as it pisses off my dad and cheers my mum up as she doesn't like the machine, especially the surround sound.

Oh the politics of Christmas and the boyishness of the wee man have made for a fun trip. Newcastle and a return to normality awaits.


Jpr

The Most Amazing Soft Play In The History Of Soft Play

The wee man today has experienced soft play on an all new level. We visited along with our friends, blond friend and Latin lover friend, what can only be described as the cathedral of soft play. We stood amazed at the size of the place as it rose nine or ten levels into the rafters. We suddenly felt very insignificant compared to the awesome power and size of the giant soft play. The extra size though meant more loud and sugared-up children who bombed around trampling the wee man. But he is tough and held his own very well.

It didn't help that we chose perhaps the worst day of the year to go and also worst time of the day. We even had to wait for twenty before we were allowed to enter the fray. The wee man despite having man flu and being only one ran around until he had no more run around in him and eventually collapsed on me as we all had a very nice civilized lunch away from crazed children in a nice bar.

In a completely unrelated topic the wee man spoke his first real word yesterday. He has in the past said dada and mumma and egg but in all those occasions he hasn't been aware of what he was saying. Yesterday while stroking The Chancellor's mum's dog he said 'dog' and then 'doggy'. And then when shown a Guinea pig he said dog again but seeing as the Guinea pig in question is the size of a small dog then you can see why he thought it was a dog. A very proud moment for us both and it was a shame I missed it.

I am now trying to get him to say 'Daddy is the best' and 'Mummy smells' but he doesn't seem interested in expanding his English language. It will come though and I imagine once he does start talking there will be no shutting him up and then I will have why? why? why? why? why? why? what's this? why? Can I watch TV? Why not? why not? why not?


jpr

Space, Time, A Burger And A Beer

I have spent today reliving old haunts and memories, none of which had anything to do with childcare or parenting. To say it felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders is an understatement. But what did I talk most about when I have a day off my parental duties? Naturally the wee man.

I met with a very old and good friend today for a burger and a beer with The Chancellor taking the wee man out to her mum's house for the day. This date has been in my calender for a while and for a long time I have wondering what to do with this liberation time.

Should I go to the cinema by myself? Too lonely.

Should I go to strip bar? Too expensive.

Should I go and sit on top of a hill staring longingly out across the landscape? Too cold and far too pretentious (though something I like to do).

I settled for an afternoon in the pub with great company. We sat reminiscing of old school times and wondering how we were now married with a child or engaged to be married. We seemed like the two same people who used to hang out together but a decade and a bit later. Time, especially with a child, seems to have accelerated and as Ferris Bueller says "Life move pretty fast, if you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it."

It was nice taking a walk through places I used to hangout and remember as a teenager, sneaking a beer behind a building or buying (underage) a packet of cigarettes. I enjoyed the nostalgia but it made me think of how much I would rather look after the wee man than go out and spend a fortune on a hangover. Oh how times have changed...

jpr

A Fat Lip On Boxing Day

What happens when a toddler runs full pelt into a table? He bleeds that's what he does. The wee man attempting to prove he is world's hardest toddler, now has a fat lip for his troubles and his new Christmas jumper is sat in a bucket of water soaking in an attempt to remove blood. The Chancellor did feel bad as she was the parent on duty and she now knows how I feel when she comes home to find the wee man has acquired a new bruise. I was however amazed how much blood there was on the jumper seeing how small he is so it must have been a pretty big hit. In the background as I write the wee man has just forgotten how to walk and has fallen face first with power onto the wooden floor with a very loud thud. As you would imagine he is crying quite loudly. He has struggled today, maybe he's still drunk from yesterday...

The Chancellor is now calming him with a small pop-up book of Italian animals. To clarify it's animals in Italian rather than animals in Italy. Though a marmot and beaver aren't the first animals that spring to mind when teaching youngsters the joys of the animal world. He is now dancing to obscure opera which is somewhat endearing.

He hasn't covered himself  in glory this week giving The Chancellor and I two hours sleep on Christmas eve night. He either was so excited about Santa coming or he saw Santa and has now been scarred for the rest of his life. Probably the latter, I did warn him about prowlers and fat men coming through his bedroom window. After such an awful night Christmas cheer took a while to build up yesterday but after a few glasses of Australian wine I cheered up. And with hundreds of new toys at his disposal the wee man cheered up too.

I hope tomorrow may be easier for us and as it's my day off I no doubt will have an easier time of it than The Chancellor. As I have arranged a trip to the pub with an old friend I dare say I will.

jpr

I Have To Unbutton My Trouser To Achieve Comfort

One man has finally dragged himself off the sofa after an afternoon of food, wine and presents to write something profound. But seeing as I have had to unbutton my trousers to reach anything resembling comfort I will make this short. Tomorrow I will fill you in with more stories but until then it is safe to say wee man got more than a few presents today, most of which play music to send me berserk. Until then look at some pictures, don't worry none of them are of Rachel Riley.

Wee man in a bag.

Wee man not so happy about being in a bag.

Also in a side note the wee man's godparents were expecting their second child and this morning, yes Christmas day, he arrived. So well done to them and their little baby Jesus.

Merry Christmas y'all.

jpr

It's Christmas Eve, Somehow.

Is there anybody else out there thinking to themselves how the hell is it Christmas Eve already? Nursing a cocktail hangover after festivities with our friends; blond haired friend, very tall friend, Latin lover friend and recently married friend, I'm struggling to believe that it is Christmas Day tomorrow. Maybe it's the lingering liqueur talking but I'm prepared to detox today in a bid to find out either way. It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas? Not sure about that.

The wee man is the real winner this Christmas, as he will be for a few years to come, and after drinks last night we returned delivering bags full of gifts from the girls. One of which, from 'Latin lover' friend, is much bigger than he is in height and I'm very intrigued to know what's in it. There is more of a childish excitement from me at knowing what's in the large bag than there is from the wee man. He is one lucky boy and are friends are very generous with him, so if you are reading this then thank you.

It's a shame no one spoils me anymore but I realise that when you get over a certain age people stop buying you gifts. It makes you want to be a child again, waking up on Christmas morning to the possibility of loads of presents waiting for you. Now you more more than likely wake up with a hangover and a desperate need to sleep and/or vomit. Sad times but a transition that all people must go through.

If you feel need the need to send me something here at One Man HQ in return for reading over 100 blog posts then message me for the relevant addresses, cash or a blank cheque will be the most warmly recieved by me and will warrant you an honorable mention in this wonderful blog or if you're lucky a picture. Also if you want to recieve a signed picture of me for Christmas then send a self addressed envelope to me and one shall come in time for next Christmas, if I can get round to it.

Remember kids prowling, breaking and entering are illegal so if you see Santa in your home arm yourself and show him whose the boss!

jpr



 

What Do Families Do At Christmas?

I have spoken before about how when you’re away from home you don’t worry about how much you drink or eat you just gorge yourself on whatever you can get your hands on. The guilt evaporates especially over the Christmas period and you look at your large belly and kid yourself it will vanish come the New Year. How many people start diets as soon as Christmas is over? I think you know the answer to that. How many succeed? Well I think your know the answer to that too.

The Chancellor and I are due to go out for drinks with friends in an hour or so and to say I feel rather rotund after an afternoon of food and drink is an understatement. I had free reign over multiple bottles of wine with a visit from my godfather who is known along with my dad and I to devour as much wine as possible while discussing obscure opera. I chime in a bit with the opera but lack the twenty to thirty years experience but I can keep up with them with the wine and food. However after all is said and done I feel rubbish because it’s still early in the night and I know a hangover might kick in early. Think of it as an early Christmas present. My father and I have vowed to detox tomorrow for Christmas Eve and hit it hard again on Christmas day, much to the anger of my Mother.

The Chancellor during all this still feels like crap and still likes to tell me she feels like crap, like I can do something about it. The wee man on the other hand is running my parent’s place like a lunatic trying to eat various bits of Christmas paraphernalia and my Dad’s blue ray box, much to the anger my Dad. He (the wee man) has also managed to programme various timers on the TV by pressing random buttons on the remote, again much to my Dad’s anger. A standard Christmas I’m guessing. 

jpr

The Mayans Never Saw The North Of England

Christmas travelling is nothing short of chaotic but the only thing to rival it is last minute shopping on the Saturday three days before Christmas. Unfortunately today we had to do both and both were horrible. People change in these situations especially in supermarkets where they charge around with their heads down lacking any sort of manners or Christmas spirit (not like I have any but still).

The Mayans had predicted that the end of the world was due this week but if you had had the joy of travelling through the northern part of the UK today you would have thought that it had happened. Rain pelted down apocalypticaly making it almost impossible to see the car in front. When you are driving at 80 mph that makes life quite difficult. The wind blew across the car almost blowing us the east coast of America. I was expecting the leaden sky in front of us to open up and a giant Monty Python foot would drop down squashing us all while making a raspberry noise. If that is how we are going to go it would be quite a funny way to go. I would be content with that.

We eventually made it down to my parent's house only to be told by The Chancellor that we need to go out and buy some last minute gifts. Sigh. But I put on a brave face and hummed Christmas songs as The Chancellor bimbled around trying to pick between what looked like the same product just in different packaging. Sigh.There are some things that you shouldn't have to do and one of them is last minute Christmas shopping. Never again.

We are now finally finished and I can write this and eat chocolate treats in peace, looking forward to a warming stew and good wine tonight. Tomorrow I hope will be better times and I can avoid all retail outlets.


jpr

Looking After A Dying Oligarch

Christmas has come a day early to us at One Man HQ, well for me more than the others. This is because The Chancellor is ill. Before you shout out me for being a monster at saying this hear me out.

I have spoken before that if The Chancellor stays off work you know something is wrong as she is a stickler for a perfect record and feels guilty even if she unable to stand. It might sound cruel that I'm happy she's ill but I'm only happy because I've had someone to talk to today and have had some help with the wee man. Today was my last day of filling the boredom but as she rolled over in bed this morning and croaked that she wasn't going in to work I cheekily smiled to myself. To paint myself in a better light I have looked after to her today bringing her tea and cake and not at all talking of Rachel Riley and not being able to see her for a few months. She naturally feels rubbish as it's so close to Christmas but on the plus side she has managed to spend an extra day with the wee man and her loving husband which she loves doing tolerates doing.

So tomorrow along with the good percentage of the population we hit the motorways where I imagine we will be stuck in traffic for a good proportion of the day. Christmas tidings indeed. But once we hit our destination then it's Grand-parenting childcare all the way and that's nothing to be scoffed at believe you me.The five hours stuck in tedious traffic will be worth it.

Look how excited or crazed the wee man looks for Christmas. He actually looks quite scary here but super excited none the less.

jpr

Tomorrow I say Goodbye To Rachel Riley For A While

Tomorrow is going to be bittersweet day for myself and the wee man. On the upside it is the final day of what has been a desperate week of looking for things to do. To say I've been rubbish at finding things to do is an understatement  Today we were kindly reprieved from our madness and were invited round to Scottish Mummy's house where she had prepared a lovely soup that warmed us from a horrid day in the North East of England. With visits to family after the wee man and I manged to stay out until just before four in the afternoon and now we just have to wait out one more day until freedom for a while.

But tomorrow will also be sad as it's the last in the current series of Countdown and therefore we won't be seeing Rachel Riley for a while. Now I know I often to speak of Rachel and you must think I'm some kind of sex pest but I'm not, she's just lovely. (Disclaimer* She's not as nice as The Chancellor) But she Countdown has become such a staple of our afternoons that is will be sad to see her off mys screen for a while. So I say so long Rachel I hope Channel 4 commissions a news series soon. Please. Here she is. Lovely. On the plus side you won't have to hear me wittering on about her.

                                                                                  Flickr: Living it Loving it Ltd

So one more day. And I actually have things planned so hopefully it will be a breeze. Hopefully. Then it's a week and a half of bliss, childcare, silence and a whole day off to myself a week today! Merry Christmas Jamie.

jpr

Filling The Void Part 2

First off today the usual Wednesday load of housekeeping. If you go to http://www.baby.co.uk/mum_stories/the-grumpy-mans-christmas-message/ you will read my inaugural Christmas message on Baby Centre. It is somewhat different from the Queen's but just as important.

I hear you asking 'What are your opening hours over the festive period?' Well much like my local corner shop I will be open for business all through Christmas though depending on how much I drink during my family's Christmas meal I may not make it to the laptop for a Christmas day blog post. We'll play that one by ear. Also there is a Baby Centre blog due out of boxing day but I'm not sure who will be on Baby Centre on boxing day but if you are then please read.


So today, like yesterday, has been about filling time until Saturday and we go on holiday for Christmas. There is a lot of time I must fill and so far I'm not doing very well at being imaginative. It just shows how reliant I have been on baby groups and social gatherings. The wee man in part has been entertained by my attempts to impersonate animals and sing him songs but his attention quickly wains and he goes back to what ever it was he was doing.

He's had enough of my antics and has given up on me, deciding instead that sleep is a better option to his dad being foolish. I don't blame him. Maybe he will wake up with an idea of what he wants to do, all set out in a colour co-ordinated flow chart or pie chart. He would probably have better ideas to me, but as I am heading towards my winter break and hibernation I should be let off after exhausting all my ideas in the past five months.

A whimper from the next room means he is ready to give me his presentation, I hope he has good ideas.


jpr

Filling The Void

If you walk around any family-friendly area this week you will probably see lots of parents looking lost and in desperate need of something to do. Including me. This week all classes I go to have finished for Christmas. This is very inconvenient as now I have nothing to do and The Chancellor is still at work until Friday. Obviously I could stay at home and look lovingly at my child or do some baking but I'm not doing either of those things as they're really boring and the wee man eats his own shoes and that's not fun to watch.

Today I was saved by my cousin's partner who came over and joined the wee man and I on a trip to the local soft play area. We killed a good three hours with coffee and a walk and a drive. Is this starting to sound like we went on a date..? Anyway it got the wee man and I out of the house for a while which is exactly what we needed. And tomorrow we start again with trying to find things to do which won't cost me the earth.

So here are some things we could do and how they score;

1. Talk to foxy mums- Could be dangerous but as the wee man is so cute it's a fairly easy thing to do. A solid 4/5.
2. Watch CBeebies or The West Wing all day- Bad parenting but educational and very well written (West Wing). CBeebies gets 2.5/5 and The West Wing 5/5. My parenting 0/5.
3. Go and bet on the horses- This could go either way and either make me money or lose me a lot of money. Also this could lead to a gambling problem for me or the wee man and then I will be shouted at. A dismal 1/5.
4. Go to the library- Easy, free and will gain me good will points from The Chancellor. A winner with 5/5.

So the winner is? Foxy mums of course. OK maybe not but if they're at the library then that works too. I will let you know tomorrow.

jpr

My Letter To Santa

Dear Santa,

I fear I have left it too late for Royal Mail to deliver you my letter for Christmas this year. Never the less if I put a load of 1st Class stamps on it and slip the postman a tenner then you may get it. I have to be honest I don't believe in you and really never have, ever since I was young and heard my parents wrapping my presents. But in an infinite space there are naturally an infinite number of possibilities so somewhere it is finitely probable that you exist and you're not just some fat drunk in a smelly suit or some marketing ploy from Coca-Cola. 

I realise that I should use this time to ask for what I want for Christmas rather than ponder the deep mysteries of our universe and the possibilities of multiple universes. So here goes.

1. 12 hours sleep every night for at least a year followed by a few more years.
2. Peace and quiet. This is quite a general thing to ask for. But at least give me the time to be able to finish the crossword in the bath.
3. The person who stole my car wing mirror last week to fall foul of some horrible affliction. Don't mind what it is but make it bad as they have cost me £80 and a lot of tedious mucking around.
4. Cold hard cash. I don't want to seem greedy but a sum of around £10,000 should suffice.
5. And finally good cheer and peace to all men yada yada yada.

I understand that some of these things I ask for might involve robbing a bank or actually assault towards another human being, so just make sure you don't get caught. If you do get caught it would blow the whole illusion of you being a jolly fellow. 

I can hand on heart tell you Mr Claus that I have been a good boy this year apart from things The Chancellor doesn't know about. I hope you and your wife enjoy your roast venison this yule tide.

Yours in constant cynicism,

jpr

8 children + 16 parents + lots of party food + a soft play area = ?

8 children + 16 parents + lots of party food + a soft play area = ?

Well it equals a fun but tiring day. Last night I did the miraculous thing of coming home early from a night out with former work colleagues. Now that I have been injected with a micro chip that makes me want to spend time with my family rather than get drunk, I decided at ten o'clock that enough was enough and made my way home, mostly sober and with a bit of money left. To say The Chancellor was surprised to see me home at this hour is an understatement. But home I was and even back in time to watch the football highlights. Good times.

In hindsight this was a great thing to do as if I had had a hangover today the equation might have looked something like this.

8 loud and annoying children + 16 loud and annoying parents + I'm very tired + I feel sick + sleeping in the soft play area + people being mean to me for being hungover = The Chancellor shouting at me and giving me no sympathy.

So there were smiles all round that this didn't happen. And seeing all the wee man's little friends celebrate their first birthdays was great fun. Next year might be a slightly different scenario as they may well be going through the terrible twos and 8 babies having tantrums won't be fun. 

Until then we will revel in them being small and not being able to answer back. Though I'm not sure how long this will last. 

jpr

The 100th post

So we here at HQ have reached the illustrious number of 100 blog posts. To be fair I expected more of the day than ripping apart a small section of my bathroom. I had mentioned some time ago to some people including The Chancellor and Funny Mummy that I wanted to do work on a new bathroom myself and was greeted with heckles and rotten fruit. But despite not owning a tool box or many tools, today I found some testosterone in the bottom of a cupboard and began work with my trusty lonesome hammer. Who needs loads of tools when you have your wits about you and you have a small hammer. Now though there is a giant hole in the bathroom which will be filled at a later date, maybe when I buy some tools.

Anyway as 100 post have gone by it would be good of me to say a few words about the stars of the show. The wee man and The Chancellor both of whom in their own little way make life bearable and who also make me want to sit alone in the bathroom for a few hours sobbing into a picture of me before I had children. I occasionally look at old pictures and think to myself 'bloody hell I looked good.' Maybe not good but relaxed and I had no bags under my eyes and there is a smile on my face.

Since I have taken over this role I can't describe how much I have changed. Not only have I become a quintessential housewife but I have gained an excellent bond with the wee man and despite moaning on here I do actually enjoy being a stay-at-home-dad but I am just generally a miserable git.

Finally before I sound like a melodramatic teenage girl from a teen movie who cries a lot, I want to say a big thank you to all my friends who help me day to day and baby group to baby group, you all know who you are. Blub blub blub blub blub. 'He doesn't love me!' blub blub blub blub.

I'm all man...really.


jpr
   

The 99th Post

As it's Friday chirpiness abounds at One Man HQ. The Chancellor is home early and I have officially clocked off for the day. If the wee man tries to get my attention I will just pretend to be a bit of furniture until he goes away.

We have a lot to look forward to this weekend, including my weekly Saturday lie in and my former work's night out. Naturally this will be messy and I have already penciled in Sunday to be a day of eating and sofa relaxing. But I have been reminded that on Sunday we have our NCT baby birthday party. 8 couples and babies, including us, are off to a soft play to get totally smashed eat cheese sandwiches and drink fizzy pop (not babies though). This for me may well be awful great fun with a hangover. You never know though I might have a quiet night and be home before ten. But as the last few old work's nights out nights out have taught me walking home four or five miles isn't the best thing to do at three in the morning.

Though in seriousness it will be great fun as we know each others babies very well and all parents get on well. As with NCT you just pay to buy some nice middle class friends, so we did very well as they are all very nice. If you are an avid reader of this blog, the group includes, Funny Mummy, Scottish Mummy and Irish Mummy.

Seeing as I will be too tired to write on Sunday, you may my dear readers, be lucky to get some pictures of this party on the blog. If you are even luckier then you may get a picture of The Chancellor but that might be pushing it. Also tomorrow will be a special day as One Man and a Wee Bairn celebrates it's 100th post! I am well know for having trouble following through with things so I'm impressed I've kept it going for that long. Only another 265 days left!

jpr

Smooth Operators

Today is my long day of the week. The Chancellor is out for the night straight from work for her work's Christmas piss up. I successfully managed to stay out from just before ten through till half three by various means and ways. 

After a music group and a nice meal with Funny Mummy and Funny Daddy and their wee tot I went off to a soft play to kill an hour or so. This was all very nice until two older boys, maybe two years old, who had been so poorly raised started throwing stuff at the wee man and I. At first I politely told them to stop. Then after a while my patience wore thin I told them firmly to bugger off. They didn't annoy us again. 

Their parents weren't watching and they let their kids tear round the place throwing stuff, standing on tables and generally being little shits. But despite being surrounded by monsters we stayed for an hour or so and the wee man stole the show with some foxy mums who also thought it was adorable that I was a stay at home dad. We're smooth operators my son and I.

As I watched older children bomb around the place I thought this is a vision of my future. The wee man has only recently started to need exercise to ware him out for the end of the day. I dread the time when he needs a good few hours to have him sleepy for the end of the day.

Tonight though the wee man is knackered already after our activities and we still have an hour and a half before bath time. To be fair so am I, it's a hard life being a house husband. 

Onto the next job.

jpr 

So Long Sensory

End of an era stuff today as baby sensory came to an end. This group has been the cornerstone of all our weeks as The Chancellor took him when he was only a young tot and I've been taking him for about five months now. It's a group we have all enjoyed and after the class is the only time I get an hour to have a coffee in peace as he naps for a good hour. So farewell to baby sensory and hello toddler sense starting in the new year.

But the wee man was staring to look a bit out of place as today he spent most of the day walking around standing on little babies' feet. Also he has learnt to walk very quickly, a speed that rivals Usain Bolt and the other Jamaican guy who does the impression of an animal, sorry can't remember his name.

Two weeks ago at the same group he pulled over a young girl by her dribble bib so she fell to the floor. We made a quick exit before the mother of the girl could collar the wee man for assault. I don't want him to get a reputation as a bully and then we get banned from these groups. Gossip travels quickly in our groups.

The other bit of notable news is that at the age of nearly thirteen months he has started swiping things like I do with my tablet. This is terrifying and says one of two things; the wee man is very smart (which he is) or I spend far too much time bimbling around on my tablet. I admit that I have a part to play in this but he is super smart too. He tries to swipe our digital camera screen and anything that shines back at him. He will certainly be a child of his generation, no question.

Right as I'm the house maid and cook and nanny I'm off the cook dinner and then maybe sit down. It's a hard life.


jpr

Solitary Confinement

Tonight I have hidden myself away from the family in a vain attempt to get some peace and quiet and to do an enormous amount of writing. Enormous may be pushing it but it still is taking up a good deal of my free time. Though what else would I be doing, washing up? Done already. Setting the wee man's bedtime stuff out? Done already. How efficient am I?

Anyway with the yule tide upon us Baby Centre want me to submit posts for weeks in advance which is quite annoying as I have nothing to say weeks in advance. Well actually I have plenty to say but those things are about football and obscure music genres, two topics that aren't really appropriate or of interest to Baby Centre.

I have three out of four blogs written including tomorrow's but like that bogey you just can't reach (sorry but a good analogy) I can't quite get around to doing the last one. Something always comes up like eating or childcare or Angry Birds Star Wars. Hence why tonight I have incarcerated myself in the front room with a pot of coffee and some inspirational music to get the job done. But as I write this and the other blogs I have a million tabs open all with stupid things running. Do I really need to be on Amazon looking for a new mp3 player or my next phone? Probably not, plus as I have no money this seems like a very pointless exercise. Sky Sports News?

No. I will close down all useless tabs that are no way relevant to blogging about children or parenting and I will finish this post haste as I have to make dinner too. Too much to do and not enough hours. I can't remember what I did before children. What the hell did I do with my time and money? I must have spent hours and hours twiddling my thumbs, it would be quite nice to have some of that time back.


jpr
 

Alien Resurrection Is The Worst Of The Four Films

Today has been long. The Chancellor was up at half five to catch a train to Leeds for a work related day out. She gave me a nudge at nearly half six, waking me from a scary dream after watching Alien Resurrection last night, to tell me she was leaving. This was not welcomed but seeing as I was fleeing from space monsters I forgave her. Last time I eat cheese and watch late night sci-fi horror films.

In a daze I murmured something to the tune of 'Piss off and leave me alone' 'I love you and and have fun' and rolled over all warm and cosy in bed. Ten minutes later the wee man decided that with it still being dark he would wake up. Yay for me. She didn't return home until just before seven. Again yay for me.

So as I said at the top, long day. I can't however complain as some parents I know, including Funny Mummy, have to go long periods of doing everything by themselves as their husbands work strange shift patterns or travel for work. Plus Multi-Mum and Multi-Dad. Can't forget them. But I'm still allowed to moan and to ease my weary joints and head I've demolished half a packet of Jaffa Cakes. If the wee man wakes in the night tonight he might hearing from me 'Piss off and leave me alone' 'Piss off and leave me alone.'

The Chancellor, that wily old fox, skillfully told me that she would be going out on Thursday straight from work to get really drunk on her work night out. So another long day awaits. I feel like a hardworking housewife, with my cooking, childcare, washing up etc etc. Violins in the background. If you feel it necessary to cry for me that's fine. I'm sure I will be moaning about another long day in Thursday's blog.

Right I'm going to bed.


jpr

A Visit To Our Heroes

You will be glad to know that today there has been no mould or no dust in my life. I discovered that spending the day around damp, dust and strong cleaning products your lungs take a bit of a beating and I spent last night moaning about how I couldn't breath. So what's the best way to combat this? Go for a walk along the North East coastline in December. The walk seems to have cleared my lungs a bit.

We took a drive today to see our friends Multi-Mum and Multi-Dad. Along with their mega buggies and our single one we trooped along the the boardwalk as winds pounded our face and with us wondering why we live in such a cold place.

If you are new to this blog then Multi-Mum and Multi-Dad are our heroes. They have two sets of twins all under the age of two. Whenever we see them we come away saying we will never moan about having one child ever again. To say they are doing a great job is an understatement. I'm not sure I would look as good as they do if I had four children to look after. So whenever I tell The Chancellor we are having no more children I now mean we are having no more children. I saw on more than one occaision a glint in her eye as she held the newborns in her arms, romanticising what the wee man was like a the twin's age. I had to remind her that he wasn't that nice and cried most of time sending us both insane. I told The Chancellor not to have any ideas but Multi-Mum tapped me on the leg and gave me a look that basically said 'You'll be having more no matter what you say.' But I am the man of the house so what I says goes, surely?

So as I consider booking myself in for the snip a glass must be raised to our friends who are getting much less sleep than we are. Though it's never easy even with one, as I write I hear The Chancellor shout 'Oh no Jamie It's gone everywhere!' I shudder to think what she is referring to but I have a good idea.


jpr

I Give You The Gift Of Pictures Part 2

It's hard to know for you the reader of how much interest there is in reading about me cleaning mould off a wall for a few hours. 'No interest at all?' I hear you say. All right then I won't tell you about the crap jobs The Chancellor hands out. But I did do this and I now stink of bleach and my lungs are full of dust. So as this is all I have done today there is very little to report. So here are some more pictures. If you claim I am selling out by doing another picture blog then you're right and I don't care.

First off the wee man looking totally ace.

 Secondly, the wee man interacting with other children. More work needed there.

 Thirdly, the wee man being a monkey.

There you go. Depending how much more mould I get off the wall tomorrow then there could be more pictures. But I know you really love them.


jpr

Poor Parenting, Twice

A couple of poor bits of parenting from me happened today, neither of which The Chancellor enjoyed hearing only moments ago. Both incidents were down to me not paying attention and I take full responsibility if it will give me a lesser sentence.

First off, the wee man never really cries anymore if he hurts himself he just brushes it off and carries on. So when he does cry you know something is wrong. During his lunch I was wondering why the tray on his highchair wouldn't click into place. After putting a bit more force into pushing it into place I realised why it wasn't closing, the wee man's finger was in the way. AARRGGHHHHH and that's just me. A moment of realisation from him and then comes the crying or the screaming if you want to be more exact. Luckily no real harm was done and after a couple of minutes and frantic walking and bobbbing through the house he returned to normal and I pacified him with a Rich Tea biscuit. Crap parenting #1

So we come to the second bit of crap parenting. You almost forget that children, at this age, change. I mean, that for he ages he wasn't able to get into to cupboards. He would play with the handles but he never had the strength to open the doors. As I was pottering in the kitchen I knew he was just next to me as he was pulling on my trouser leg. Next thing I know I look down and he isn't next to me anymore, he has got in the cupboard under the sink and has pulled out a bottle of anti-bacterial all surface cleaner. AARRGGHHHHHH and that's me again. He looks very pleased with himself that he's gotten into a cupboard and in fairness I'm impressed he has managed to do this. But this just means we HAVE to do more baby proofing this weekend. The bottle was only moments from being put in his mouth and that would cause me all sorts of other problems.

Luckily he was alright after all these hardships and The Chancellor hasn't hit me. But she is off for two days now so a tighter reign on baby proofing will be taken by her.

jpr

There's Snow Day Like A Snow Day

The wee man this morning was a star. As I lay in bed at nine o'clock this morning catching up on my correspondents I was more than happy that;

a). The wee man was still fast asleep having let me sleep for 10 or so hours.

and

b). I was tucked up all nice and warm as everyone else, including The Chancellor, was battling through the snow and ice to go to work.

I felt smug.

Eventually he rose and we eased our way into the day and I didn't get out of my pajamas until half past ten. I felt like a student again. However because I got some tedious parking ticket yesterday, which I should have contested on the grounds that it was stupid and cost me £35, I had to venture out into the cold and pay it. The wee man and I managed to slalom our way across the icy snow like Olympic cross-country skiers, but this made me even more annoyed because I was trudging through the snow just to pay a ticket I shouldn't have got in the first place. But like a good citizen I payed it and even told the lady at the desk that I shouldn't have got it. She was not sympathetic to my plight nor was she particularly interested. I said my bit though.

I let the wee man toddle through the snow on the way home which he greatly enjoyed but as he tends now to dawdle as he toddles I cut short his frivolity because I was cold and hungry and I don't like snow. He got the idea, next year I will probably be sledging with him. Cold and wet winters await for me, it's what I get for long lie-ins!


jpr
  

The Wee Man Is Hard As Nails

So having had something like a night of sleep I was ready to rock and roll today. And what better way than watching other people stick three needles into the wee man's legs. Today was MMR (measles, mumps and rubella) jab day and other rubbish diseases booster jab day.

We were joined by The Chancellor as she very kindly took the day off to join me in the needle fun, though she doesn't need to be asked twice to have a day off. This was the first time I had witnessed injection day as all the previous times had happened when I was actually paying any form of tax. As we sat in the waiting room at the doctor's I started to feel slightly guilt and a bit worried for the wee man. He tottered around, grinning and doing pleasant vocal exercises oblivious to what was about to happen. After pleasantries with the nurses they asked me to hold him tight with his arms out of the way. At this point he started to get a little fussy, I apologised to him and closed my eyes for him as the nurses stood on either side and stabbed him with the needles.

As you can imagine he did not enjoy this and began crying but only for a few seconds. He was a real man though and brushed aside the pain and moments later he was laughing and happy again. Top man. The Chancellor tells me the first time he had injections he was only weeks old and as they poked him he held his breath, turned purple and let out an enormous scream. Obviously spending more time with me has toughened him up! Maybe if I actually owned a tool box I could get away with this kind of comment. Anyway I'm very proud of him, so well done to the wee man.

Finally admin for a Wednesday.

http://www.baby.co.uk/mum_stories/prince-william-is-just-like-any-other-guy-right/ This is a blog post I never thought I would write.

http://www.baby.co.uk/mum_stories/is-my-son-disabled/ and this is a blog post I knew I would write.


jpr

I Give You The Gift Of Pictures

I'm out of ideas today. This is mainly due to another night awake with a screaming child. I have been too tired today to write and only got through the day with the help of a music group and a Yorkie bar which filled me with a large amount of sugar. Tomorrow is MMR jab day so I will be back to normal duty then. To fill the void here are some pictures of random things that may or may not be interesting.

The very very lovely Rachel Riley and the wee man

The wee man trying to escape

"Dad is an idiot"

There you go. See you tomorrow.

jpr

Please Remain Seated

So today as I write there is wall to wall coverage of Kate and Wills' pregnancy announcement. I'm not really a royalist or interested in them in any way but they seem fairly nice so the most I will say of it is well done and good luck, you'll need it.

Returning to a child who probably won't get any near as much press coverage as a royal child, the wee man in his own esoteric way hes been setting the world alight and caused no end of havoc. No longer can I leave him in his high chair as I head in to the kitchen to make him his breakfast or lunch or dinner, no. This is because the smart little guy has learn't how to get out of his high chair and stand in the seat and bounce up and down. As soon as I leave the room he breaks free his shackles, taking full advantage of there being no parent around, and looks very proud as he jigs around in the chair. As the chair stands 3 and a half feet or so in the air, this makes any fall he might have quite dangerous and therefore make things quite difficult for me. A broken arm would be the least of my worries if he fell at an awkward angle.

The one thing the wee man hates in the world, more than having a cotton bud shoved up is nose, is to be strapped or penned in in anyway. So when we finally release him from his high chair or car seat or push chair he grins to himself and kicks his legs excitedly. He knows exactly what's going on and how to get what he wants.

Also in the news today after that exciting story of mine is an even more exciting story about how the wee man and I went to buy a Christmas tree today. I let him toddle around the trees seeing if he had an eye for a perfect shape and size but he just walked round and round in circles, more interested in the netting machine.

Anyway you have to be wondering why I told you this story so I'll let you all get off now and catch up with the latest news on the royal baby, they might be discussing names.


jpr

A Cold Home And Reality

Reality returned today and by God it was cold. We returned home in quite a sad mood as we now have to buy our own food, cook for ourselves and we don't have a pair of babysitters on tap. What are we going  to do with ourselves? Do we really have to live like real adults? As winter has hit the north east of England it's bloody freezing and a quick check of our house temperature did not make nice reading, 8 degrees Celsius which is FREEZING! So for the past four hours our central heating has been on full whack and we might be in debt just to get warm.

Not only have we returned home with a house load of new toys for the wee man but we have come home with a changed wee man. While we were away he got himself into the habit of having two evening meals which has led to a plumper toddler who now has a double chin and big Santa style belly. This is good for winter though and the extra layer of fat should keep him warm from this dreadful cold. Already tonight he has had a fair amount of food and now he is sampling the delights of my home made pizzas. Greedy baby.


He has also nearly given up on crawling and just wants to walk everywhere either with you holding his hand or just by himself. This is very nice but bending down for a good half an hour starts to make your back ache. And he decided to start saying the word 'egg'. I don't know how or why he has started saying this or if he even knows he is saying it but out it comes. Egg, egg, egg etc etc.

Tomorrow we all start again and I'm not looking forward to being by myself day in day out as we will be returning to child on the shoulders thing when I go to the toilet and many other treats.But only three weeks until Christmas then The Chancellor is off for another two weeks. The countdown has started.

  
jpr

Santa Scared My Child

There are some moments in life that the wee man will probably never forget. Today was donkey and Santa day and it produced mixed success for The Chancellor and the wee man. It was all a bit too much at the start of proceedings for the wee man and he wasn't too sure what to make of the donkey cart ride. This may have been because they were masquerading as reindeers or the brightly covered cart who knows. But according to The Chancellor he warmed pretty quickly to the experience and even began dancing to Christmas music as he rode round and around. I won't tell you who was singing the Christmas song as it's embarrassing but endearing enough.

So the donkey cart ride culminated in a visit to see Santa. This didn't go down as well as the donkeys did. In fact he didn't like Santa at all. He wasn't best to start with being led into a dark cave and on meeting the big bearded man his face dropped, bottom lip trembled and he began to sob softly. The wee man  might well have also been annoyed that Santa couldn't remember his name. Did Santa confuse him with a nice child? So The Chancellor kept having to correct our bearded friend, who probably wasn't listening, much to the mirth of his elvish assistants. In the end to soften the blow the wee man returned with a toy duck which he can marinate in wine for a few hours and then serve with oven roasted potatoes and string beans.

I'm not sure if we will be taking him next year and maybe it's just better if we just tell our son that Santa doesn't exist from an early age. Is that too mean?

Having seen the pictures it looked like loads of fun but not enough fun to lure me from my two hours of alone time. This precious time was very nice but in truth I wasn't sure what to do with myself. So I just ate toast and watched the build up to today's football games, in fairness is there anything better I could have done?


jpr    

Super Fun Christmas Day Out (Without Me)

Tomorrow the wee man is being taken to see donkeys and Santa. This will be his first visit to see good old St. Nick and depending on his reaction it may be his last.

Now I'm not really an animal person (real animals like bears and wolves are interesting but farmyard stuff then no) nor am I a Christmas person except for my CD of Medieval carols and Home Alone 1 + 2 so I have managed a dodge this particular outing. I have been aware of this Christmas fun day for a while so from the outset I declined going as it would give me a chance to have some child free time. There have been last minute attempts from The Chancellor and my mum to get me to come but I have kept the battlements well stocked with soldiers and I've resisted. My defences will not be broken and with the spirit of all the English Kings I will sit on the sofa, put my hand down my pants and watch Saturday afternoon football.

I have seen some pictures of some of the wee man's little friends sitting on the lap of a Santa and some don't look overly excited but maybe a second later they will burst into laughter and have a wonderful time. Or they burst into tears to a have a life long crushing phobia about fat men. I hope it isn't the latter and they enjoy Christmas every year. I'm sure the presents would distract them anyway.

Some other parents I know have been a bit unsure of sitting their children on the knee of Santa including me. But that is because Christmas time brings out the best in SUPER CYNICAL MAN! Don't talk to strangers but you can sit on one's lap if he has a beard and a red hat. I am a Grinch but I do loosen my ways when on Christmas day I drink and eat loads of meat. In the truest of styles.

So I hope the wee man isn't scarred for life or scared by a strange man his little helpers. If he is then it's SUPER CYNICAL MAN to the rescue where I can tell him all about when Oliver Cromwell banned Christmas and the world seemed a happier place.


jpr  

The Wee Man Turns One!!!

Today the wee man turns one so I say to you happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you... yada yada yada.

Between us, The Chancellor and I have managed to keep him alive for 365 days which has to be, by far, my greatest achievement since completing Zelda: Ocorina of Time for the N64 games console. In this time we both have had roughly six months each with him and I can’t claim to have taught him anything important except for patting his hand to his mouth to sound like a Warrior Indian or saying the word ‘egg’. I’m not sure I can pretend, with this, to have built on the solid groundwork that The Chancellor laid down in those formative months.

But there have been a couple of important things which I have exposed him to in my period of residency.

Firstly, Rachel Riley...err I mean Countdown. It’s all about the education in our house. I’ll keep telling myself that. But Countdown has given me the most endearing thing I have ever seen in my life. When the thirty second countdown begins the wee man begins to dance in time with the beat. It is a wonderful sight to see but I think he dances better than me, which isn’t hard.

Secondly, Prime Ministers’ Question time. This is our avid Wednesday lunchtime viewing. Most children get cartoons the wee man gets intense political debate. I’m not sure this interests him as much as Waybuloo does but he will get used to it and it might teach him a thing or two about being liberal with the truth. This might make the teenagers years difficult. There are a number of other things including free jazz but that is far too pretentious to write about so I won’t make myself sound like an idiot. If I haven’t already.

Anyway tonight a few glasses of wine will be raised to my ace son. And only another 17 years left until I can charge him rent or kick him out.

jpr  

Always Read The Small Print

Somewhere I think in my marriage vows it must say 'As a husband you are obliged to go anywhere your wife asks, even if it so mindlessly boring that you will use 70% of your battery life on your mobile phone in half an hour'. That's the small print. Written in such minute lettering that you need at least two magnifine glasses to see it.

The Chancellor used this small print to drag me shopping with her and my Mum today. The wee man got out of most of it by sleeping for a good hour and a half, tucked up in his new cosey toes thing for his pushchair. He saw it coming and had the right idea. I had alerted him of what was to come during a conversation this morning. Despite him not being able to say anything apart from 'eggs' (this is a new thing) there was a cosmic male bonding moment where he said "Yep Dad I totally get you, I'll just sleep through the worst of it and see where we are when I wake up".

I was not so lucky and as we strolled through a freezing city centre I contemplated climbing into the buggy to join him. Logistically tricky but worth a shot nonetheless. I managed to break free the shackles of oppression and run off for 10 mins but was quickly reeled back in and I returned to following the oligarchs two steps behind. Democracy had deserted me in my hour of need.

In a moment of civil unrest though I put my foot down and said I was going to Starbucks and no one could stop me. Power to the people and capitalism. Then, a God somewhere smiled on me and said "Jamie I understand your hardship, here, I give you a German sausage stall at the German Christmas Market!"Ace! So in a matter of seconds I destroyed a foot long sausage and bun with such glee it made the previous hour worth it. The silver lining was joyous as was the mustard and ketchup additions. So the moral here is don't despair the Germans will be there to help you!  

jpr

Is That A Log In The Bath?

We haven't had a bathroom incident for a while. The wee man seemed to have grown out them. You're probably wondering what a bathroom incident is, I'll tell you. As you know if you have been reading the blog recently, we are stationed at the moment at my parent's house. We have decided to stay longer as we can't face debt, a damp flat and noisy neighbours. We can just suspend reality for a while.

So last night, at bath time, was the first opportunity we had had to use the wee man's new bath time toy. It's great, it's a turtle that says stuff and plays music and lights up. The wee man throughout the bath seemed a bit out of sorts. We just thought it was because he was somewhere slightly different and he just hadn't quite adjusted yet. As bath time passed I was having more fun with his new turtle that he was. Then after chewing on a crab for a while he stood up, steadied himself and promptly had a massive poo in my parents' bath. It wasn't a runny poo no it was a full double sausage poo that floated off and touched all his bath toys. After emptying his bowels the wee man perked up and started to kick the bath water about. Seeing that this would end badly for all of us I quickly pulled him from the bath leaving the offending bowel movement to continue floating around.

My Father having watched the offending incident said that he would not use the bath for at least two days. The Chancellor and I apologised profusely for our son and luckily my parents (well my Mum) didn't mind. But it was just another job for us to disinfect all the wee man's bath toys. 

I have for the last two blog posts been giving you pictures but I think with this you wouldn't have liked a picture of what the bath looked liked. You are just going to have to visualise it and even then I probably wouldn't recommend it. Bath time looms on the horizon tonight and I don't want to have to do all that cleaning again. Will lady luck shine upon me tonight?

jpr  

His First Shoes

I love shoe shopping...and coat shopping and man bag shopping and accessory shopping. If this makes me slightly feminine then so be it but I do have a rather excellent collection of coats and jackets so I don't care. Anyway today we went to measure the wee man for his first pair of shoes. This is a truly momentous day and a very proud one for The Chancellor and I.

The wee man couldn't have been any better as he let some strange woman measure his feet. He sat quietly and calmly not flinching or really caring about what was going on around him. So he says a big thank you to his Grandmother who has paid for his new footwear.

We chose a pair with dinosaurs on which are very cute and also very cool. He now looks like a real little boy tottering around the place in his new pumps. We were scared for a moment in the shop as he kept going back to a pair of sparkly pink shoes. No matter how many times we lured him away back he went for the sparkles, does he want to be a female ballet dancer or just female?

Just to be clear that neither is a bad thing as I am very liberal but my son will be growing up to be a professional footballer so ballet doesn't really fit. I intend to live vicariously through him as my footballing career was cut short by a bad knee injury and more importantly a lack of real footballing talent. The real great ones have it in the head but not on the pitch. That's what I like to tell myself.

I have discovered only yesterday how to insert pictures into my posts so here is another picture after yesterday's shot of The Chancellor's arm. Did you like the arm? It's a good arm.

 How cool are these? And how arty is my shot? As the wee man has now decided to sleep I couldn't get a picture with him in the shoes so you will just have to imagine little legs sticking out of them.


jpr

 

Birthday Bash

The wee man is indeed a lucky man. Today at his birthday bash he was inundated with a vast array of expensive and fabulous toys and gifts. Wonderful wooden toys, clothes, money (that I'm not allowed) and new bath toys that will make bath time so much more fun. The Chancellor and I feel very touched that we have so many nice friends and family who care so much about the wee man. Blub, blub, blub. Sorry I'll just wipe that tear away.

In return for the toys and adulation the wee man was in fine form, flirting, smiling, laughing and dancing. He even managed a half hour nap while there was so much going on in the room. Top man. We couldn't have asked for anything better really and we are now all cream crackered except for the wee man who is buzzing around the place at full speed. Glancing at my watch I think it maybe a while before he is in bed. Even if he is up in the middle of the night I will grant him leeway as he has been so good today, I will just endure a torrid night if he is up.   

There you go as a treat I have included a picture of the wee man's birthday cake, aren't I nice? And what a lovely glimpse of The Chancellor's arm. I 'm going to go and sit down now and hopefully sleep a deep and undisturbed sleep. Ta ta.

jpr

 

The Birthday Week Is Upon Us

If there is one place you don't want to be with a frustrated child it's stuck in the middle of a traffic jam on one of England's busiest motorways with another hour to go before you reach your destination. The Chancellor not only had to deal with the wee man but also with me moaning about the traffic, rubbish drivers and the treacherous fog that fell over the car.

One Man and a Wee Bairn has taken its unique brand of witterings and moanings on the road this weekend for the wee man's first birthday party. We have traveled down to Leeds for a weekend with the family and friends and hopefully some relaxation. Despite his birthday actually being on Thursday we are celebrating 365 days alive because not everyone can make a party in the middle of the week. So it will be a ripping party to fully celebrate a first birthday. Things are already rip roaring as while I am writing this the wee man is being inflicted, by his Grandad, to a version of Shakespeare's Falstaff with the sub-woofer on full. This not only over stimulates the wee man but pisses off my mum who continually shouts at him to turn the television down. A sign of things to come this weekend I think.

But it should be a wonderful weekend of celebrations with the family and some very close friends, all of whom have been so incredibly generous with their time and money. The only problem though with the weekend is that we have no room in the car to bring back all the presents we imagine we will get for him. After packing the car so full to the brim for the way down we joked about what it would be like to have another child. Joked maybe not quite the right word, worried might be more fitting. We would have to upgrade to a 4X4 or some kind of mini bus which would cost the earth. How Multi Mum and Multi Dad do it is beyond me. I can barely travel with one let alone four. Anyway no moaning this weekend, celebration awaits.


jpr

   

I Hate My Neighbours

I dislike my neighbours. I really do and let me explain why. We live in a downstairs flat (apartment if you're American. By the way hello to all my American readers). The flat is actually quite big because of the room sizes and ceiling heights. It's a really nice place and we love that it is over 100 years old with lots of quirky features.

About six months ago three lads moved into the flat upstairs. To say they are heavy footed is an understatement but this isn't my problem with them. Last night was the second night in a row that the wee man has slept through after a week or so of broken nights. Last night was also the night the lads upstairs decided to have a party. They were still going at 04:28 when they woke me and The Chancellor up. This isn't the first time they've had a party and last time even came round the next morning to apologise. I told them that if it happens again I can't save them from my wife when she comes round to kick them in the balls. They looked genuinely scared.

The area we live in is a family area away from the student areas of the city which is one reason why we chose to live here. So we really don't appreciate living below three students. For a time they had a treadmill and when they used to do their exercise the pictures on our walls used to shake and I thought for a while that they would fall through the ceiling. An hour of thudding that sounds like we're being bombed sent me slightly deranged.

Surprisingly the wee man doesn't seem to care about the noise and luckily hasn't woken up once with their continual noise. It just really annoys me and The Chancellor and it wakes us up. I have vowed that if they wake the wee man up I will go round drag them from their home and make them spend a night with a crying baby just to see what it's like. Once they spend a night with a crying baby they will never make a noise again.


jpr

Whatever Tony The Tiger Says Must Be True

First off the usual Thursday admin. If you go to http://www.baby.co.uk/mum_stories/fathers-of-the-world-unite/ you will find this Thursday's blog for Baby Centre. Also if you feel the need to comment on it then please do, even if you comment with other Smiths' lyrics that is fine and I will think you are very cool.  

So to today and what a difference a good nights sleep makes. After a quiet night, I like Tony The Tiger says feel ggrrrreat!There is an extra spring in my step and an extra step in my stride. The wee man too seems less tired and whingey and has a broader smile on his face.We're like a new family. Will it all change tonight? I'm not saying anything. I'm not tempting any fates or even making the merest hint that it might happen. I will leave it to the will of the Gods.

We also feel energised today after singing songs this morning about living on an iceberg for forty years and other weird subject matter.The music group is very fun but I wonder where they came up with some of the lyrics for their songs. The group, as well as sometimes confusing me, also gives the wee man the perfect opportunity to practice his new found love of dancing. And as we drove home, playing The Smashing Pumpkins in the car, he rocked away nodding his head and moving his upper body  to the beat of the song. So proud. None of these rubbish nursery rhymes for us.

Next week when we go to Piccolo music it will be the wee man's birthday and he will also have the company of his mother as we dance and sing about creeping jungle animals. As well as the daily blog about it there will be a special birthday edition of The Baby Centre blog where I talk of the importance of Zelda, Rachel Riley and Prime Minister's question time. If you can work out how they link into a post about a first birthday then there is a prize in it for you. If you can't work it out then you will just have to read next week.


jpr
     

A View Of How Things Used To Be

There is something truly wonderful about talking to someone who doesn't have children. They give off this vibe of being totally relaxed about life, mainly because they have had 8 hours plus sleep every night for...forever. They look and sound good too. There are no bags under the eyes, no frayed nerves, no cynicism and no wrinkles. They give you a window into the life you used to have before the sleepless nights. Conversations are wonderfully refreshing too. There is no chat about bottles or formula or when is the right time to do this and that or why are my son's poos so offensive?

Today the wee man and I had lunch with a former work colleague and her fiance. They don't have children of their own yet so the conversations over lunch were more than just baby related. It felt nice to speak of a life away from children. 'You can actually go somewhere without it taking you at least an hour to get ready? You don't smell constantly of nappy sacks and dried baby sick?'

I am not so secretly jealous of their life mainly because at the moment the wee man isn't sleeping at night. Last night was another night of crying. Plus along with the tears the wee man isn't interested in being soothed by me and seems to cry even more until The Chancellor enters the room. As soon as he sees her face he stops the tears and calms down. Rejection of sorts.

He still seems to be happy enough though with spending his days with me. Not sure however how long that will last. Next week though he gets both of us as The Chancellor is taking a holiday and spending 9 days with us. Happiness all around. It can't come soon enough and I might try to convince her to add a few days onto the end of it. Fancy taking a month off or even a year???


jpr

The Cough And My Grumpiness Continue

When I look back in a years time at these posts, I would imagine the vast majority of them will be either about lack of sleep or illness. For as long as I can remember this has what our lives have been about. The wee man has had a cough for at least a couple of months now and it seems to have gotten worse. 

For the last couple of nights the coughing has bothered him so much that he has woken and not wanted to go back to sleep. It would be OK if he just lay there contemplating his baby existence or reading classic literature or writing a novel but he doesn't, he cries and moans keeping us all awake. In the end, last night, The  Chancellor brought him in with us which is something neither of us want as neither of us get any better sleep than if he was just crying in his room. 

I know we are not the only parents who are in this boat as this cough has hit more babies than just ours. But it is like noting has changed in the space of a year and we still have a newborn child. Exhausting. The wee man on the other hand still seems to be as energetic as ever despite hacking away as a result of his 20 a day habit. 

In my grumpiness in the middle of the night I moan that he is the worst baby in our group and as of tomorrow I'm running away with a younger model and will never be found. The Chancellor claims though that she will always find me and make me do my babysitting duty. Shame. As a parent you always have hope that the next night will be better and you might get some sleep. Hope for us has turned into desperation and eventually desperation will turn into lunacy. Tonight I will be praying to any God that will listen that we can get some sleep as if we don't I may not be standing tomorrow. I'm not fussy any God will do.

   jpr

Can You Not Let Your Dog Bark In My Son's Face Please

On a day to day base I seem to attract weird and or annoying people. Or maybe they attract me and think I'm weird. Generally it's people who won't move out of the way on the pavement as I push the buggy past and then they tut at me. People like that. Tedious folk and life would be much easier if they weren't around to annoy me. There seems to be at least one encounter a day.

I encountered such a person today. Ironically this happened while pushing the wee man around the grounds of a psychiatric hospital which is round the corner from my home. The grounds by the way are very pleasant and there are no scary patients wondering around. Anyway as the wee man snoozed away oblivious to anything else in the world a woman let her very big dog come up to the pushchair and bark loudly in the wee man's face. Luckily he woke only for a couple of seconds before returning to his slumber. As you would imagine I was quite annoyed by this and I suggested to the lady that she might want to take her dog away but I was greeted with a blank look and shrug of the shoulders. I shook my head in her face, told her she was an idiot and continued on my way. Poor little man. I would be pissed off if I was woken up with a dog barking in my face.

I could sit here and rant for a while about keeping control of your pets but I can't be bothered. The wee man seems to have an affinity for dogs and I wouldn't want him to get a complex after a meeting with a loud dog. If it happens again I'll call her more than an idiot and I might kick her.



jpr



  

Godparents

The wee man must feel very privileged. He has several very good male role models in his life, including me and his Godfather. Godparents in my family are important and it's very important who you get for the job. So who better for the wee man than a fellow who once shared with me nearly seven and a half bottles of wine in one sitting? Top role models indeed.

This was a time when neither of us had children and as you can imagine the night did not end well for me. The Chancellor discovered me on my back in the bathroom covered in my own vomit claiming that I could clean up the mess. Seeing as I couldn't even sit up this might have been difficult. I woke up the next morning knowing something bad happened but couldn't remember what it was. My punishment for her cleaning me up was a morning of curtain shopping, which nearly killed me and I also remember being close to vomiting in the middle of the John Lewis' curtain department. Top role modelling.

But the role of the Godparent is to teach the child all those things that the parents don't want the child to know; drugs, booze, women, gambling etc. I remember being told rude jokes and snippets of philosophy as a child not quite knowing what they meant but knowing they were important. The memories of watching my father and Godfather getting drunk are etched in my mind. I wonder where we get it from. It would be good to note that my Godfather in the father of the wee man's Godfather. Got that? Good.

The wee man's Godparents are very well travelled his Godmother being from Australia and his Godfather has travelled the world and lived abroad for a good length of time. So who better to teach him about the exciting things that happen in the world. It's an important role for me and hopefully the wee man can go to them with useful the questions in life. Will my parents know if I smoke? Will my parents notice if I'm drunk? Will my parents notice if I get arrested? The answer to all these may be 'Yes but there are ways of hiding it'.


jpr

That Was Not A Fun Road Trip

Yay family day out today yay! Where shall we go? Well in the end nowhere. Through a series of unfortunate events we ended up just driving around the city for nearly an hour.

First off we thought lets go to the museum. This seems easy enough but as we drive through the city centre we forgot it's match day in the city. Newcastle United's ground in right in the city centre and the museum we wanted to go to is right next to the stadium. So we drove around and around and around some more looking for a space but none was to be found, so a fed up me gave up and took an executive decision. Let's go to the the contemporary art gallery on the river front.

OK off we go. I have been here before but ALWAYS take the wrong junction. Today is no different and taking the wrong junction we get lost in not a nice area of Gateshead. All through this The Chancellor is laughing at me for getting lost and the wee man is pissed off that we aren't going anywhere. So after multiple more wrong turns including circling a roundabout a couple of times we end up miles from home. An hour after leaving we end up back home after a really really (un)fun family day out.

But my day is not going to get better as I'm sent to the big supermarket on a Saturday afternoon to do the weekly shop. Never again. Never again will I do this as it's the most awful place to be on a Saturday afternoon and I would have much rather spent the afternoon with the wee man. Luckily my speed and trolley rage enables me to get round quickly even if I've made no friends on the way. I can get a little aggressive under the pressure of supermarket shopping but if it means a speedy exit then that's fine. The wine I snuck home will help me feel better about the toes I ran over today.


jpr

A Weekend Just To Myself? No

This weekend we have some nice stuff planned as a family but I'm also gunning for some time by myself that doesn't involve children, toys, baby food, prams, nappies, napping, bottles and Cebeebies.

Basically if you can think of the most unfamily friendly thing then I want to do it (but nothing sordid, I'll get into trouble). I talked about holidays here yesterday but after some thought and the reveal of my credit card bill today I realise that this could be a bit too hard to sort. So I'm not asking for a holiday or a wild weekend of physical and psychological destruction, all I want is a little bit of non-baby time. I'm sure every stay at home parent will want this this weekend.

Seeing as The Chancellor has just arrived home very early from work, things are looking rosey for me already. Just need to get her drunk now and persude her to take the wee man out for a very long walk tomorrow. Or he can join her wandering around Marks and Spencer's looking at every single things that's in the shop. He needs to learn from a young age that this will be his job in years to come with his wife. If he learns it now then the tedium won't seem as bad in years to come.

On a bright note, last night the wee man decided that sleep was a useful and fun thing to do and returned to a full nights sleep after a few days of protesting. Other babies in the groups had joined his picket line and spent the week awake thinking they knew better than their parents. We will however always quell the masses and return our houses to totalitarian states that they are. Though their protests will probably get harder to crush the older they get. Water cannons at the ready. 


jpr

This Time Two Years Ago We Were In Barcelona...

First off today if you feel the need you can read my Baby Centre blog post for this week. You can find it http://www.baby.co.uk/mum_stories/my-son-seems-to-have-grown-suckers/ It touches on, in more detail, some points that I have made in this blog a while ago. However the problem in question seems to have been around for a while, so it was worth discussing again.

Away from the admin of today, after two nights of collapsing on the sofa, so run down that we could cry, The Chancellor and I closed our eyes and imaged a holiday of sun, sand and sea. I posited that we just say sod it, max out the credit cards, leave the wee man with the grandparents and head off the the Maldives for a week or so. At the time of saying this it the idea seemed daft and far fetched but the more I thought about it the more it began to sound like a wonderful idea. You only live once eh? Plus there would be no guilt about the wee man as he loves spending time with his Grandparents and they love having him. Just imagine a week of sleep. A week of peace. A week of not being ill. A week of...I could go on for a while with this. So let's just say it would be very nice indeed.

There should be a fund set up by the government for parents who need a holiday as there is no one more deserving of a holiday as a knackered parent. Everyone I know certainly would benefit from from time in the sun. At the moment The Chancellor and I are on permanent catch-up, mainly with our health and sleep. Once one of us gets rid of something then another one of us gets something again. I can't remember a time when one of wasn't ill. I think a long holiday would sort us all out and it might just cheer us up a little bit.

Two years ago this month, before children, we were in Barcelona enjoying very comfortable temperatures, the delights of Gaudi, very nice wine and amazing food. How things change...


jpr    

A Look Can Say A Thousand Words

A look can say a thousand words. At the end of a recent group I drummed up conversation with a lady I had seen previously but never really spoken to. After a moment of small talk it dawned on her that I might be doing childcare full time. She asked 'Oh so you're doing the full time childcare?' 'Yes' I replied. To that she raised her eyebrows and turned away from me with a look that said,  'I see so that's how they're doing it?' It wasn't a particularly mean thing but you could see exactly what she thought of a man staying off to look after their child.

She didn't offend me or upset me, she merely made made me think she was a bit of a moron. I might be a bit of a novelty at some baby groups but surely you must have seen some other dads taking their kids to these things or you know doing some parenting. In fairness it's the first look or comment, in this vain, that I've received since starting this five months ago. Anyway I would have challenged her but I was preoccupied with whether it was too late for shops to be selling bacon and sausage sandwiches. Next time.

Back to today and there is far too much happening for me to write it all down in another paragraph. So I will do a quick headline news ticker.

THE WEE MAN VOMITS FRENCH TOAST IN MIDDLE OF BABY GROUP- DAD IS NOT HAPPY.

THE WEE MAN'S GRANDMA VISITS AND DOES WASHING UP- DAD VERY HAPPY.

WEE MAN REFUSES TO NAP- WEE MAN NOT HAPPY.

There you go.


jpr

  

Rachel Riley Doesn't Even Cheer You Up? You Must Be Sick...

So The Chancellor returned to work this morning leaving me still with the illness I had yesterday, minus the blood and the wee man who has now got the illness I have, minus the blood though thank God.

Tonight I am not just excited for her to walk through the door, I will be waiting at the front door for her. As soon as she gets in she will get a baby boy who has cried more often than not for at least three hours this afternoon. I'm going to go and invest in ear plugs before tomorrow because after the first hour of crying it starts to get a bit tiresome and if this happens tomorrow I will need to protect myself. Not even the lovely Rachel Riley on Countdown would cheer him up and her lovely face would cheer anybody up. She always cheers me up.

With Rachel Riley off the table I ran off the obligatory list of things that could be wrong. Teeth? Ok we'll try some teething gel. Not a winner? Ok I know you're a little ill some how about some Calpol? That's tasty isn't it? He sure likes Calpol, but I don't blame him I used to like it too especially back in the day when it had sugar in it. Who didn't? It seemed to do something for a while. Finally though it was a bit of dinner and ten minutes of SpongeBob that calmed him down and seems quite cheery now but I'm still watching the clock on the living room wall and waiting. A watched pot never boils and a watched front door never opens...

On bad days the wee man and I have stood in the front room bay window watching the buses go by seeing if we could spot The Chancellor about to get off. These are the desperation days. It's a shame the nights are so much darker in winter as we can't quite see who's on the bus. When I buy my earplugs tomorrow I will invest in a torch too and we can peer through the gloom for her. That won't look dodgy at all...


jpr