THE weekend had arrived so there were two of us to
attend to the lovely girl's demands. Change me. Feed me. Wash me.
Hypnotise me to sleep. With a strong double act in operation there would
be more time to get the other things done, the nice little touches,
like change my pants, feed myself, have a wash and clean the house.
Naaah, not a chance.
The Milk Lady made some delicious food (meatloaf) and I
tidied the table by moving a pile of papers to a different location on
the table. Turns out the Nicompoop has the ability to steal time. You
wake at 0650, get ready for a productive day, then it's bed time.
Somewhere in the middle you ensure the baby has a great day and you are
absorbed in a time machine that roughs you up, smears banana and milk
over your clothes and face while slowly chiselling away at your hygiene
standards.
"Right, that is it!" I exclaimed to L.
"What's up?" she said.
"We need to get back to having a modicum of respect for ourselves", I continued, knowing it was too late.
"What's up?" she said.
"We need to get back to having a modicum of respect for ourselves", I continued, knowing it was too late.
I was walking along the landing towards a pile of brimming
nappies with a saturated breastpad stuck the bottom of my foot. I thought I'd seen the last of these pesky sour bastards, but no they're back – the Milk Lady is reducing feeds so becomes leaky during the mid-section of the day. Back at
the start of November I was a somebody, a big-shot*. Now look at me.
*not really, I just wasn't caked in excrement.
Somewhere in the day we had an amazing time in the swimming
pool with A-bizzle, practising the moves she's been learning at Baby
Swimming. While the other families laughed and played in the water we
were dunking, belly-flopping and spinning the munchbunch underwater.
Aggressive stuff, but she loved it and I needed prep ahead of my first
lesson in charge on Wednesday.
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