Memory Lane Part II
I was talking to a friend of mine about the blog the other day. He asked me where I got the profile pic from. Before I could answer he went on to say that it gave a really good impression of me as a doting father.
At this point, I want to name my friend. Only Hannah gets to use her real name on here [and that was an accident in an early post before I started giving everyone nicknames] so I am conferring upon him the title of; : The Huge Tumbler. It’s a mangled anagram of his real name. More or less. Well, less, but it makes me grin so it passes the selection criteria.
So, back to me as a doting father. I consider myself to be one but regular readers will know that this blog is not quite a fatherhood master class. I’ve been going for a self-deprecating tone and if that comes as a surprise then I’ve failed miserably. I think it’s more entertaining that way. My favourite TV programme at the moment is Total Wipeout. I enjoy when people successfully complete the course but I tune into it for the entertainment value of the failures. Who wants to read about SuperDad? “I’ve changed twelve nappies today, fed my twins a healthy organic diet and have started teaching them trigonometry”. No way that’s more entertaining than babies dropping irons on their heads or trying to run away.*
Fatherhood is a tough gig and sometimes you don’t want to hear more advice, or to hear how well someone else is doing. Sometimes it’s better to hear that other people are also finding it tough, that their kids act up too, that things go wrong and the world will keep turning. If that doesn’t work for you, you can just have a cheap laugh at my expense to help you through.
Despite what The Huge Tumbler might think of the picture, it’s self-deprecating too. I did see the potential for a good impression in it but mostly I liked it because I have my mouth closed, I’m not drooling and if I’m on my side I probably wasn’t snoring either. Considering that pictures of people sleeping that appear on the internet often involve eyebrows being shaved, genitalia being drawn on their foreheads with eyeliner or lots and lots of shaving foam, I’m happy with it.
The picture was taken on the first night that Hannah and the boys got home from hospital. We had arranged to stay in my mother-in-law's for the first while so we could take full advantage of any and all support on offer. My sister-in-law, The Wag, kindly gave up her room to accommodate us. The plan was that I would wake up when the boys were due their feed, change their nappies, help Hannah set up and generally help out. The reality was, Hannah couldn’t wake me, changed the boys herself, set herself up and fed the boys while I slumbered. Not model father behaviour!
The other reason that I like that picture is because I lived to see it. Hannah had a tough week. There was the whole childbirth thing for starters. Then she had trouble sleeping in the hospital. ** Then there was the fact that she was going to spend her birthday doing an impression of a milking machine after I had a trip to LA and Vegas for my birthday a few month s previously. Picture the scene; you have just lived through one of the toughest weeks of your life. It is 2am and you have been asleep for what seems like three minutes. You have been woken up by the harmonies of your children crying and your husband snoring. You have kicked and punched him until he stopped snoring but he is still refusing to wake up. You have so many hormones running around your body that you can’t tell up from down any more. On top of this, you can vaguely remember a story about a woman who got away with murder after claiming temporary insanity due to post natal depression. When I imagine the scene, Hannah is looking for either something sharp or something blunt and heavy but can only find her phone and settles for taking this picture and seeking vengeance at a later stage.***
*There was another escape attempt last night. Monkey Boy had been biding his time and lulling us into a false sense of security. We didn’t lock the front door and he kept his escape quiet by leaving it open behind him. Lucky for us, Fat Chops is a tell-tale and came into the kitchen to pull me towards the front door by my trouser leg, talking gibberish and gesturing towards the front door.
** There was one nurse in particular who caused the sleeplessness. She was smitten with the twins and insisted on helping with the night feeds and woke Hannah a few hours beforehand to make sure that she knew to ask for her. Then when the boys were due a feed she was nowhere to be found so Hannah asked a different nurse. Finally, at 3.30am as Hannah was just drifting off she came into the room, turned on the light and asked why she hadn’t been called. There is nothing like being woken up for a stupid reason to make sure that you are too angry to get back to sleep.
***I still don’t feel safe!
****I left the first note until last. The obvious reference is to the fact that a picture apparently paints a thousand words but I took a notion that it would be kind of cool to write the post so that it was exactly a thousand words long. It took me a couple of tangents and a little bit of padding to get there but in the end I made it and that makes me really, really, really, really, [quick count] really happy!
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Thursday, September 9, 2010
My Turn
Oh, what fun we had last night. Hannah was cooking dinner and I had a few errands to run so she set the boys up with some paper and crayons at a little table we have in the dining room. It’s usually good for a few minutes peace and last night was no different, when I came home they were happily scrawling on their paper and intermittently running over to the mother to proudly display their latest work of art. Then Monkey Boys creative instincts ran away with him and he decided that the table could do with a splash of colour. Green, to be precise, liberally spread over the wooden surface of the table. I gave out to him, reminded him that he was only supposed to write on the paper and set about wiping it off the table. As I reached to get the back of the table, Monkey took the same green crayon and started colouring in the spot that I had just cleaned.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING???!!!”
He looked at me after my outburst and tried to decide how to take it. It turns out that he doesn’t take me seriously as an authority figure [gasps all around, I know]. He decided that the best course of action was to go on a charm offensive and after a brief delay, he flashed me his best I’m-cheeky-but-so-loveable grin. I did my best to keep a straight face but the best I could do was turn away and make myself busy scrubbing the table.
Clearly, he thought that the walls could use a scrub too and after a few minutes he brought my attention to this fact by decorating the wall beside his colouring table. Pink this time for those of you keeping score. Hannah was the parent on call this time and decided to try out the “naughty step” as recommended by Supernanny. Monkey Boy was brought out to the hall, admonished and told to sit on the step until he was ready to say sorry. Fat Chops tried to follow him out and proceeded to wail when we wouldn’t let him. We couldn’t decide if he wanted to go out to comfort his brother [happening quite often now, very cute!] or to join in the disciplining [loves to tell his brother how bold he is!]. It turns out that it was option C.
After we had brought Monkey Boy back into the kitchen, Fat Chops headed straight out to the hall, sat on the step and cried for a few minutes. When he was done he trotted back into the kitchen and carried on like nothing had happened. I saw it with my own eyes but was he really jealous of Monkey Boy being given out to?
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING???!!!”
He looked at me after my outburst and tried to decide how to take it. It turns out that he doesn’t take me seriously as an authority figure [gasps all around, I know]. He decided that the best course of action was to go on a charm offensive and after a brief delay, he flashed me his best I’m-cheeky-but-so-loveable grin. I did my best to keep a straight face but the best I could do was turn away and make myself busy scrubbing the table.
Clearly, he thought that the walls could use a scrub too and after a few minutes he brought my attention to this fact by decorating the wall beside his colouring table. Pink this time for those of you keeping score. Hannah was the parent on call this time and decided to try out the “naughty step” as recommended by Supernanny. Monkey Boy was brought out to the hall, admonished and told to sit on the step until he was ready to say sorry. Fat Chops tried to follow him out and proceeded to wail when we wouldn’t let him. We couldn’t decide if he wanted to go out to comfort his brother [happening quite often now, very cute!] or to join in the disciplining [loves to tell his brother how bold he is!]. It turns out that it was option C.
After we had brought Monkey Boy back into the kitchen, Fat Chops headed straight out to the hall, sat on the step and cried for a few minutes. When he was done he trotted back into the kitchen and carried on like nothing had happened. I saw it with my own eyes but was he really jealous of Monkey Boy being given out to?
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Fun In The Sun
If I was smarter, I would have taken better notes of the different things that the boys did while we were away on holidays [definitely a holiday, not a vacation - thanks to Hammer for reminding me that I'm not American]. Then again, if I was smarter, I probably would have prevented at least 70% of the incidents that make this blog entertaining.
I was dabbling with the idea of writing this post in a diary style;
-Day 1- Monkey Boy fell into the pool head first and nearly drowned
The main reason that wouldn't have worked is because I tuned all the way out on holiday. It started early, I was asking people to remind me what day it is before I had fully turned pink. I take that as a good sign, one slow moving sunnt day blurred into the next.
In case you are wondering, Monkey Boy did actually fall into the pool but was never really in danger of drowning. His mother was on hand to lift him out of the pool by the ankle. I don't think that it was related to that incident but both he and his brother showed a reluctance to get into the pool. They were only too happy to play around the pool bank all day long and they were very diligent about making sure that anything and everything that was left lying around went into the pool. The inflatible loungers, the plastic cups, the few small toys we had brought with us all got dunked. We were grateful that the sun beds were too heavy for them to push in and everyone quicly realized that books and MP3 players were all to be left well out of their reach.
Bearing in mind their wariness of the pool, we probably should have realised that a trip to the beach wasn't a great idea. They loved the sand pit in their Nana's house though so we packed up and went. Apart from the fact that - they hated the heat, they wouldn't wear the flip flops we got them so they couldn't stand in the hot sand, they were intimidated by the crows and the noise, they didn't like the feel of the sand on their hands once we set them down on a blanket and the moving water absolutely terrified them - it was a roaring success. We may never go to the beach again.
The heat over there really sapped their energy. We got to sleep until nine most mornings and one day their afternoon nap was four hours long. It was only partly down to selfishness that we left them that long, we knew we were going out that evening and would be out late. It was very different than some of the struggles we had been having getting them down for their nap at home. At one point we said to them "time for a sleep"The normal reaction varies from "NOOOOOOO!!!" on a good day to a full blown screaming fit on a bad day. This time the reaction was for Fat Chops to toddle out of the room. I thought it was a bid for escape but by the time we caught up with him he was trying to climb into his cot. They must have slept for about 18 hours a day. I managed to read two books in a week and I'm not talking about picture books either!
We went away with a good portion of Hannah's family; her mother, her three sisters, her brother in law, five nieces, a nephew and the friend of her youngest sister. I know going away with your in laws might not be everyones idea of a good time but I get on really well with my wife's family. Not to mention, when you have twin toddlers and want to try and relax a bit yourself it is very much a case of the more, the merrier. Instead of Hannah and myself having to retrieve the detritus from the bottom of the pool, it became a diving game for the kids. When it got too hot, there were plenty of volunteers to sit inside with them and watch cartoons. They spent hours following their cousin around as if he was the gerneral of a not-so-intimidating three man army.
Base camp was the driveway at the side of the villa. This was on a fairly steep incline and the army's training consisted of running up and down it. Running up was just hard work. Running down was an exercise in suppressing your self preservation instincts. The effects of gravity meant that Privates Fat Chops and Monkey Boy were running far quicker than they were comfortable with. Their expression was a mixture of exhileration and sheer terror that melted into relief and amusement as the ground levelled out. If only we could have got that in a photo.
I was dabbling with the idea of writing this post in a diary style;
-Day 1- Monkey Boy fell into the pool head first and nearly drowned
The main reason that wouldn't have worked is because I tuned all the way out on holiday. It started early, I was asking people to remind me what day it is before I had fully turned pink. I take that as a good sign, one slow moving sunnt day blurred into the next.
In case you are wondering, Monkey Boy did actually fall into the pool but was never really in danger of drowning. His mother was on hand to lift him out of the pool by the ankle. I don't think that it was related to that incident but both he and his brother showed a reluctance to get into the pool. They were only too happy to play around the pool bank all day long and they were very diligent about making sure that anything and everything that was left lying around went into the pool. The inflatible loungers, the plastic cups, the few small toys we had brought with us all got dunked. We were grateful that the sun beds were too heavy for them to push in and everyone quicly realized that books and MP3 players were all to be left well out of their reach.
Bearing in mind their wariness of the pool, we probably should have realised that a trip to the beach wasn't a great idea. They loved the sand pit in their Nana's house though so we packed up and went. Apart from the fact that - they hated the heat, they wouldn't wear the flip flops we got them so they couldn't stand in the hot sand, they were intimidated by the crows and the noise, they didn't like the feel of the sand on their hands once we set them down on a blanket and the moving water absolutely terrified them - it was a roaring success. We may never go to the beach again.
The heat over there really sapped their energy. We got to sleep until nine most mornings and one day their afternoon nap was four hours long. It was only partly down to selfishness that we left them that long, we knew we were going out that evening and would be out late. It was very different than some of the struggles we had been having getting them down for their nap at home. At one point we said to them "time for a sleep"The normal reaction varies from "NOOOOOOO!!!" on a good day to a full blown screaming fit on a bad day. This time the reaction was for Fat Chops to toddle out of the room. I thought it was a bid for escape but by the time we caught up with him he was trying to climb into his cot. They must have slept for about 18 hours a day. I managed to read two books in a week and I'm not talking about picture books either!
We went away with a good portion of Hannah's family; her mother, her three sisters, her brother in law, five nieces, a nephew and the friend of her youngest sister. I know going away with your in laws might not be everyones idea of a good time but I get on really well with my wife's family. Not to mention, when you have twin toddlers and want to try and relax a bit yourself it is very much a case of the more, the merrier. Instead of Hannah and myself having to retrieve the detritus from the bottom of the pool, it became a diving game for the kids. When it got too hot, there were plenty of volunteers to sit inside with them and watch cartoons. They spent hours following their cousin around as if he was the gerneral of a not-so-intimidating three man army.
Base camp was the driveway at the side of the villa. This was on a fairly steep incline and the army's training consisted of running up and down it. Running up was just hard work. Running down was an exercise in suppressing your self preservation instincts. The effects of gravity meant that Privates Fat Chops and Monkey Boy were running far quicker than they were comfortable with. Their expression was a mixture of exhileration and sheer terror that melted into relief and amusement as the ground levelled out. If only we could have got that in a photo.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)