Day 49-51 - Sunshine, Lollipops and Dropping Food

NEARLY back on track!

FIRSTLY, no complaints with the hot, sunny weather. It's a very British thing to moan everyday about the rain, or the darkness, or the cold, or how it's not like Spain, America, or anywhere else, but then within half an hour of any heat above 25 degrees Celsius and the same people are complaining about a lack of air conditioning, requesting a national sunshine holiday and calling in sick with heat exhaustion.

As a "stay-at-home" parent I'm not sure who I am supposed to call to request a day off because I'm too hot. Possibly the government. Yes, it's their fault that the sun's out. I'll get one of their people to look after M'lady while I cool down.

Of course, sane people realise that we get approximately 12 hours of summer so just crack on with it, feeling hot but accepting it for what it is; not rain. With regards to A-bomb I followed the rule that if I want to wear fewer items of clothing, she probably does too. Unluckily for me, I could not get away with wearing just a nappy or a walk to the shops whereas babies dodge judgement on that. Out of order really... just because they are small, fat and require being wheeled from A to B that exempts them from clothing too. What a life they have. More on that later.

So, reduced clothing. That put a smile on the face of the munchbunch plonker. Also, when it came to sleep/nap times in her cot, with the Egg Thermometer about to explode (it turns bright red when very hot) at temperatures of 26-28 degrees C I needed to take serious steps to cool the zone down. All windows in the house were opened in an attempt to get a draft going (it resembled more of a pathetic lisp effect), I cranked up the electric fan that was strategically placed in front of A-bomb's rouged face, and I took the unprecedented step of opening her window and thus allowing light in from behind the holy black-out blinds. All of this reduced the temperature by about 0.1 degree.

An excellent tip that was then put to use was placing freezer blocks in front of the fan so that rather than recycling hot air, the cool(er) air from the blocks was blown around the room. I also placed numerous ice packs in tubs by the cot, which did assist with cooling the place down. The main bit of luck was that M'Lady cleverly positioned herself directly in front of the fan so that she was effectively in a wind tunnel. She had quite the Elvis quiff after a few hours. These procedures combined with A-bomb being on good behaviour meant there were no real problems with day or night sleeps... The Milk Lady is like a heated up furnace at the best of times, with volcanic lava running through her veins rather than blood, so required "more space" to cool down. Therefore, my own sweaty sleeping scenario was like a nightly audition for Cliffhanger, clinging onto the side of the bed with beads of perspiration falling from my nose and the elusive Zs escaping my weak grasp. As long as the ladies of the house were okay, that was my only concern (sure, we'll see what karma has to say about that).

Although the glorious sunshine and the blistering heat was the main thing going on, other things did happen in the three days under scrutiny here...

Monday: I noticed that M'Lady has developed a very useful new skill. She can eat her own feet. I am working out the best way to monetise this but as yet I haven't secured a financial backer or any sponsorship deals. She showed off the impressive capability while I was changing her nappy – as I whipped the fresh one under her sizeable backside she just grabbed her right foot and put it in her mouth. Obviously I then attempted to copy her and failed. I fear this may become a running theme.

For the Lady's evening meal we chose to dine al fresco with the highchair in the garden. Courgettes were on the menu and life was good. Then the little turd repaid my efforts by chomping of a decent lump of the soft vegetable, spitting it on to her chin, scooping it up with her fingers and flinging onto my arm. It had all of the characteristics of phlegm, which wasn't ideal, but to be fair it was a great shot.

Tuesday: This was a very exciting day because A-bomb and I hosted the main man Harry, one of M'Lady's good friends from the NCT gang. His mum, Janna, had an appointment in town and we were happy to welcome him for a few hours. A-Bizzle gave H a lovely welcome by putting a mammoth sleeping shift in, so for a while it was just the lads. Actually, two other mums came round with their girls to join the fun in the garden so we had a little tea party, complete with ice lollies for adults and water and carrots or the babies. The little guy was as good as gold, happy to sit up with his perfectly straight legs while the girls fussed around their business (toys). I had been well briefed but still the logistics of a nappy change for a boy took a moment to get used to... I was ready for the out-of-control hose, but there were no issues. Eventually A-Bomb arose from her slumber and all in all it was a lovely day with the gang; Harry just chillin' with his ladies. A very cool customer.

Wednesday: By the powers of social media (Facebook) it had come to my attention that my old boss, from the glory days of landscape gardening during holidays, was on a job nearby so we packed ourselves up and went on a mission to find the old team. After a short walk and a couple of stops on the Northern Line we were at the work house (not in the Victorian sense, that would be brutal and illegal... I mean the house where the guys were working). We were armed with ice-creams and cold bottles of Coke, which A-bomb took great pleasure in holding to keep herself chilled. It was great to see the grafters from Bracknell in town (Clapham South) toiling away in the heat! After a quick interview process M'Lady now has a couple of shifts on the wheelbarrow for Fordy in the coming weeks. She could certainly move some weight job with those arms.

While purchasing the cold treats I had splashed out on a delicious looking lemon chicken salad sandwich, from the special range. You know"deluxe" NOT standard. I was ever so pleased then when, on our return journey, that due to the packed nature of the City Mini Jogger GT's undercarriage the sandwich popped out, landed in front of the buggy and before I'd noticed I ran over it. Obviously the expensive item still got eaten but I feel that the experience would have been better without the tyre tracks.

As it turned out this was not my day for handling food. Much later in the evening, when M'Lady was long asleep and the Milk Lady had taken herself to commandeer her sleeping area, I had prepared my meal... a splendid looking arrangement of last night's chicken with some bread and cheese accompanied by a pint of milk. On my way into the living room I stopped to collect the baby monitor. I rested my plate of food on the high-chair tray. SMASH! Yep, the high-chair tray does not take the weight of adult portions. All of my food was on the floor, along with a pool of milk, which had poured out of my glass as I bent down to see what I could salvage. It was now trickly through the floorboards. The tragic part of this tale is that I already I knew the rule about the high-chair because I did exactly the same thing last week with a lovely chilli. Anyway, I swept up the mess and ate it. I was hungry.