On the FIRST day of Christmas our daughter gave to us…… Our first night out in 4 months
Yes Dear Readers it’s Christmas time and that means that it’s almost time for a DD and the Little Person Christmas Special. There will not be an “Xmas” in sight either….. Well OK, except for that one, this is going to be a Santa baby grow, mince pie and Turkey of an unfeasible proportion kinda blog featuring none other than our little Christmas Pudding, the one and only LP.
But first a little story………….
T’was many nights before Christmas…..and the frivolities started with a Jolly good night out and, as YM and I have not had the opportunity to spend an evening without being surrounded by baby monitors, washing and obscure stains, we thought it was high time that we press ganged or niece who, last time we spoke was between jobs, but is now the CEO of a global distribution company. CEO or not, when dereliction of duty called, young Kirkton Niece was ready and able to take the call on her rhinestone embossed Samsung. Kirkton Niece jumped at the chance as she loves our wee LP and manages, without the aid of E numbers to keep up with her. So, after Kirkton Niece had been across to ASDA in her Onsie and bought herself 2 bars of Galaxy and a party pack of Red Bull to fortify herself for the task, she headed over, en route, via B and Q, to purchase a pair of gauntlet gloves and some coal tongs to assist her in changing LP’s nappies as she was none too keen on toxic code brown’s.
Anyway… with major thanks to Kirkton Niece, YM and I set about, alas not in the best John Smeeton style, getting ready to go on our night out. It had been a while and to say that YM and I were excited about going out was an understatement. We were looking forward to seeing our friends from Bootcamp all dressed up in their bonny frocks and novelty Santa kipper ties. The last time I had spent any time with them, I was soaking wet, covered in sand and absolutely dripping in Lycra. I thanked my lucky stars that, by the time the Camp Commandant had forced my fellow survivors and I to run up and down the sand dunes of Broughty Ferry a gazillion times we were all in the latter stages of hypothermia, as this saved many of us from getting a minter at the state we were in (embarrassed, to my non Scots readership).
The old adage “time is a healer” reverberates around my head as I sadly remember just what preparation for going on a night out entails. Luckily, as LP was tucking into Tyrannosaurus Rex shaped chicken breast and spelling out profanities in Alphabetti Spaghetti supervised by Kirkton Niece, who, by this time, was already multitasking by reading Take a Break and chatting on our home phone to her boyfriend Daryl (24) about his recent appearance on Jerry Kyle where he openly discussing his fetish for 1980’s power ballads, was, thankfully oblivious to YM and I attempting to prepare ourselves appropriately for the wonders of a “Party Night” which constitutes Christmas dinner followed by an evening of interpretive dance moves performed by intoxicated firemen, generated by a free half bottle of house white per person and the musical styling’s of a local radio DJ.
Of course preparation for any night out, or indeed anything at all really, stopped when the Stork brought LP. YM and I used to prepare lunches and iron clothes of an evening. Dinner dishes would be washed, hound's would be released and baths would be had. All of this is a distant memory as YM and I fight over who will be lucky enough to get a shower (YM) and who will be lucky enough to do the last minute ironing (you guessed it: ME). Also, due to a house move we still don’t know were once important things were, for example Cuff Link’s, which thankfully YM found before I was forced to use a stapler to fasten the cuff’s on my only “dress shirt” which still remained white as it had not been worn over the past 4 months and within 20 ft of LP who seems to be able to project bodily fluids on clothes by way of some ability born not of this world. I feel that I should not tempt fate by dressing LP in Superman baby grow or travel anywhere in the vicinity of 1970’s phone booths.
It has to be said, YM is altogether more elegant than me, This was clearly demonstrated as I stumbled across the landing trying to avoid, but failing dismally, an upturned socket guard which caused me to unceremoniously fall on to our bedroom door which caused it to open in a rather theatrical manner just as YM was slipping on a pair of marigolds.
Ging’s Crivin’s help ma boab (as they say around these parts).
I did indeed question just what I had stumbled upon. Gentle reader, no not be alarmed. Once YM had picked me up off the ground and removed the brown paper bag from my mouth which I was frantically breathing into, she advised that this was simply wearing rubber gloves as it was, apparently, the best way to put on tights. On reflection I found myself to have rather juxtaposed emotions. That of relief yet an equal measure of disappointed.
YM and I finally made it downstairs to be greeted by a tomato sauce covered YM and a Niece who had clearly aged by 10 years and, it would be fair to say, had not had her looks enhanced by the strands of spaghetti which were clinging to her, once lustrous, hair. If this were ancient Greece Kirkton Niece would have been revered as Medusa. Alas it was not.
Before we headed to the car YM and I air kissed LP Goodnight, for fear that we too would suffer the fate of Kirkton Niece. As YM and I walked, hand in hand, to the car we both felt a little uneasy. Something was missing. We knew that LP was safely inside being cared for by Kirkton Niece but, in the four or so month’s since LP arrived, one or both of us has always been in the company of LP.
This was the first time one or both of us had left home without pushing, lifting, carrying, soothing, cajoling, singing or attempting to wipe strange stains off of our clothes.
Strange day’s indeed.
We both had a great time with our friends and despite a rather neurotic daddy calling home a couple of times to for a “Sit Rep” YM and I managed to relax just about long enough to enjoy the Christmas night out. YM was sleeping soundly on our return home and Kirkton Niece had even left us some Chocolate.