Gentle reader, do not be overcome by an attack of the vapours and take to your bed in Victorian fashion… much like YM did today. You will be relieved to hear everyone is OK and has survived yet another day just about intact. Alas some of us are more intact than others, with LP doing rather better than her mummy and daddy over the course of the day… and what a long day it was.
The day started at about 2.30 am when LP awoke with coughs, sniffles and unholy guff’s. As YM has selective hearing it was initially up to Daddy to make an attempt to negotiate his way out of bed and through to LP’s room without kneecapping himself. The winter months are indeed cruel and as the Hood is well above sea level the temperature is a few degree’s lower than our posh coastal neighbours, so the central heating is now cranked up to 11. I ordinarily find diving out of bed in the middle of the night Starsky and Hutch style to tend to my daughter to be less arduous when I find myself to be enveloped in the warmth of a warm room, however it is not so pleasant when the radiator is set to 11 and it’s glowing white hot as my left buttock connected to it.
By the time I made it through to LP’s room she had gone past the melt down point of no return. Like counting the seconds between thunder and a subsequent bolt of lightning, she reached the stage when crying is preceded by silence as, I assume, she inhaled in order to let rip again. So reaching in to LP’s cot, the room only illuminated by the 2nd degree burn on my bum cheek, I scooped up a rather soggy faced LP and attempted to soothe her as best I could. The look on LP’s face was akin to YM’s when she was informed that the parenting urban myth that Calpol has a sedating effect is indeed fictitious. I do however hold an advantage over YM as I am considering telling LP that Calpol does not make her snoozie thus destroying any placebo effect. LP attempted to snuggle into me and calm down, sadly, we both realised that the game was a bogey and we would have to seek support from the big guns, AKA YM, in order to turn that frown upside down. Not wishing to lose face I cuddled LP and, for some reason, managed to calm her enough to pop her back in her cot and for me to make my way back to bed without causing myself further damage.
Lying in bed, listening to the silence, interspaced by the hound frantically licking her anal gland, I could do nothing but wait for sleep. 2.45 am is not the time to wait for sweet Morpheus to take me in her arms, it is a time when every right minded person should be asleep. Clearly this is not the domain of the parent, well for this one anyway as YM slumbers beside me oblivious to the burns I have sustained and to her daughter’s recent meltdown. As I lay in bed pondering whether to get up to make a cup of tea and again risking further injury, LP stirs once more and raises the decibel bar to a new and lofty level.
As a Daddy I know the level of my abilities. As was pointed out to me by a fellow survivor a week or so ago, LP only spends about 3 hours awake in my company a day, YM has her for considerably more and therefore has a deeper understanding of LP’s needs and a bond which, sadly, I will never have. Foolishly I have, in the past attempted to challenge this bond by questioning the chocolate rich diet of LP during the day or by making the occasional fashion suggestion. These offerings of advice have for the most part been treated with contempt and, on occasion, outright hostility, however at silly o’clock I am in no way keen to argue over the finer points of parenting and require YM to awaken and assist LP.
My normal modus Operandi (yes I confess I have done this before) is to gently nudge a sleeping YM until she awakens . Usually I push her a few times with my bum until she’s teetering on the edge of the bed and wakes up just before she falls into oblivion. This usually effectively does the job and YM awakens with a startle and promptly leaps to the aid of LP. Alas on this occasion I could not adopt this method due to the burns to my behind. Feeling somewhat guilty I have to advise that I took a rather Machiavellian approach and gently called to the hound to come over. Ever the obedient doggie, she jumped up and laid between YM and I. Without further ado I quickly rolled over causing the hound to let out a bark, YM woke with a startle, I chastised the hound, YM went to the aid of LP, and order was restored to the universe.
After mega mummy cuddles, warm milk and a nappy change, the latter being a joint effort, YM eventually returned to the cot and slept peacefully until we were again awoken at about 7 pm by the hound pacing up and down.
YM had been making plans the night before to meet up with one of the Real Housewives of Broughty Ferry and attend the Boogie Babies chapter house for tray bakes and bean bag songs. Sadly for YM her plans were to be thwarted, not once but twice. I had taken a flexi day and was keen to attend Boogie’s for posh coffee and tray bakes, oh and to spend some quality time with LP. In truth, YM struggles to attend Boogie Babies with me after some unpleasantness which we shall not speak of again save to say that that I will never question the portion control of an Aero Bar tray bake ever again. Alas, if this were not enough for YM it became clear, by the number of trips to the smallest and after this week, the most eclectically decorated due to me not realising that patterned floor tiles follow some kind of pattern (the clue may have been in the name), room in the house that YM may have succumbed to a LP acquired infection. YM made an executive decision and, through the chemical and biological suit I insisted she donned attempted to mime her intentions not to go out in public for the rest of the day.
With YM temporarily incapacitated it was time for a quick breakfast of fruit and Pain aux Chocolate for LP and 2 cups of coffee and a Losec for me. So after whipping what I would assume was chocolate from various orifices, LP was assisted to dress in her best John Rocha frock.
Soon we were on our way down to Boogie Babies, our expectations as high as Freddie’s Falsetto as we drove across town listening to Bohemian Rhapsody. The journey was really quite uneventful. LP had taken her shoes off, thrown her John Rocha hat to the floor and was happily blowing snot bubbles. All fairly normal really.
On our arrival Boogie Babies was starting to fill up with the usual collection of ruddy faced babies and toddlers. Various mums and dads sat about anxiously waiting for the chapter leader to enter the hall and whip the assembled masses into a frenzy before, again, abruptly stopping for coffee and tray bakes. As poorly YM had planned to meet with her friend Betty and her little person to show her the ropes, I dutifully waited for her to arrive and then sat with Betty in a misguided attempt to prevent any incidents.
Sadly, and somewhat predictable, today did not go without incident. First of all I do have to look to myslf and see what part I have to play in things. I really should not have positioned LP and I directly next tho the chapter leader as she commenced the sing song section. I felt compelled to attempt to keep up with the Leader as she twisted and gyrated, It was clear that, by the time we got through sleeping bunnies and the bean bag song that the chapter leader and I were locked in a 1970’s style dance off and one of us was going to lose. As the introduction to Heads, Shoulders Knee’s and Toe’s kick in I poised myself, ready to commence the first moves. LP had, by now, lost complete interest in me and was now trawling the room looking for stray sippy cups and bean bags. As the music kicked in the chapter leader cranked up her radio mic in an attempt to sing me into submission. Faster and faster the relentless movements of head and toes, knees and arms were made, beads of perspiration formed on our foreheads as the leader and I became oblivious to the others in the room and became lost in the song. Suddenly the chapter leader lost momentum as she faltered her moves and fell to the ground, a quivering wreck. The audience cheered, small children poo’d themselves with excitement and the chapter leader admitted defeat and threw her radio mic to the floor in defeat.
Victory was indeed sweet……as was the tray bake I was about to eat if it were not for Betty and her complete inability to multi task. Betty (whose name has been changed to protect the guilty) said she would keep an eye on my cake whilst I retrieved LP from underneath a table and encouraged her to eat her own weight in raisins.
A simple task you might think however Sarah, I mean Betty was clearly distracted as she failed to see a small child saunter towards my cake, pick it up in his kleptomaniac hands and take a bite or three from it. Unluckily for me recidivist child’s mother saw her son and swiftly intervened by taking the cake of her child and replacing it with a custard cream which clearly was not seen as a good replacement to tray bake judging by the child’s meltdown. The half-eaten cake, with the icing still sticky with saliva was then handed back to me with the words
“It’s OK, he doesn’t have cooties”.