Saturday, 31 August 2013

Father's Day is just like any other day, only with a sleep in and presents

I'm not sure about older kids, but I can tell you with babies, they're the boss of you. Bedtime is up to them; when and how much they eat is up to them; and if you're looking forward to something, you can bet they'll mess with that, too. So when I get a little win, I feel quite pleased about myself. I take a moment to congratulate myself, even though its unlikely I had any influence on the outcome. Whatever. I take what I can get. Here's a list of mini wins that keep even the most thumbed parents feeling in control and chuffed with themselves:
  1. Every time my little fella swallows the medication I've hidden in his food, I whisper to myself, "Sucker!" I have a success rate of about 40%, but I think that counts as a win.
  2. We use cloth nappies at home, so on the odd occasion he wears a disposable nappy and does and epic poo, I feel like a deserve a pat on the back for avoiding an unpleasant clean up (or more unpleasant, I should say). I think our washing machine would thank me if he could, too.
  3. Ditto when he's at child care or being baby sat. Woo hoo! One less poonami to deal with! (sorry, mum).
  4. Babies fall over all the time, happily with less frequency as they get older. When the little dude falls hard and doesn't cry? Yeah, I put that down to my skilled parenting the area of Hard Knocks. He's tough as nuts, and it's all down to me. In reality, he probably saw something shiny on the way down and decided tasting it was more important that letting me know he has an owie.
  5. Overall, our little wonder is a pretty good eater. He likes most things, most days. However, it's rare he eats the whole meal. But when he does, it isn't because he was really hungry. Nope, it was my brilliant cooking that taps into exactly what babes love to eat. It's a skill, and really, I'm not sure it can be taught. 
  6. You're all familiar with O's relationship with sleep (they hate each other). It's illogical, but when he falls asleep without too much fuss, or if he sleeps for more than 3 hours straight, I totally cheer myself for my flawless execution of the bedtime routine. I know it has little to do with me, and that it's more likely the influence of the moon and the magnetic field that is surrounding our home at the time, or fairy dust, or voodoo, but it still feels like a tick next to my name in the parenting column. Of course, the next night I have no idea what I did, and am racking my brains at 9.30pm as to what the magic combination was the previous night. That shit can send you round the bend.
I can't think of anything else right now, as I was up until 3.30 am with a baby who couldn't decide if he should sleep or party like it's 2099.

And I suppose, since it's Father's Day, I should wake the old man and give him the handmade gift he will treasure forever (children: the gift that keeps on giving. Just kidding. I totally made him part of his present this year). Or I could play around on the net a while longer, and when he gets up to go to the loo, put in my breakfast order...

Happy Father's Day to all the wonderful daddies out there. I know I couldn't live without my dad or Owen's!

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