I was home late from work today. This really doesn’t have anything to do with the story that I am going to tell but it’s always nice to have all the facts isn’t it? Anyway, I was late home from work today, which meant that B got two of the children ready for bed by herself. Which, actually, is probably only the 18th most amazing thing that she has done today. But before this turns into a paean to my incredible wife (can you tell she reads all these before I publish them?) let me get back to the story.
Wednesday, 7 December 2016
Monday, 31 October 2016
That’s it, just come a little closer, I’m going to tell you something tonight, a chilling tale of a man’s complete inadequacy. It will be a story to curdle your blood and have you sitting up at night wondering about how such a man has managed to survive for thirty something years.
I need you to imagine yourself in a hospital labour ward. Your wife has just suffered through a very painful, though quite speedy labour, and you have a newborn daughter in your arms. You got it together enough to tell the midwife the name that you and your wife had literally just decided upon. I mean it. We had a number of names that we were pondering, I had vetoed some of my wife’s more outrageous suggestions (I don’t care how much you like 70’s soul and funk, we were never going to call our baby Earth, Wind & Fire, no matter how well it describes it’s early days, just imagine how terribly it would go with the registrar) but we had not managed to agree on a name until she popped out.
Monday, 24 October 2016
I understand that labour is painful. I’ve never actually been through it myself, so I cannot corroborate it from personal experience, but I am an observant fellow and I have experienced it through B on three occasions so I am fairly confident when I say that it didn’t seem like she was enjoying it. Which is what makes what I am about to tell you quite so impressive, from my point of view at least.
Firstly though a bit of background. After all, you know me, I’m not happy until I’ve written 1000 inconsequential words before finally getting to the punchline.
Wednesday, 19 October 2016
I once wrote, “ For one thing, once you have three children you've run out of arms, unless you're an octopus of course. Not being an octopus, and only having the normal number of arms, I am concerned about what is going to happen once we have our third and I am left an arm short.” Yes, that Wildeian wit really was me. Honestly. Look, just go here if you don’t believe me.
That was about 4 months before the birth of our 3rd child, and one of the very last things that I managed to write on the blog. It turns out I had seriously underestimated the number of arms that I would need. Also the amount of time I would need to do everything. Not to mention the total chaos that an extra child would bring into my life.
Tuesday, 30 June 2015
It is heatwave season. This means a number of things. Firstly the Daily Express gets even more shrill about weather than it is the rest of the year, seriously just click on the link above and I can pretty much guarantee that one of the first two or three stories will be about the incredible heat, or the possibility that next week we will be struck by an 'icy blast' from somewhere. Secondly it means I write a blog post complaining about how hot it is. Regular readers will now that I have a particular view about hot weather, which boils down to, it seems that lots of people seem to enjoy it, I don't and I would rather that it be somewhere else, anywhere else really. However, this year will be different, this year I am not going to complain but instead I am going to regale you with a quick tale that will both entertain and instruct, well, maybe one of them, and probably the only instruction you will take from this is the obvious, if important, lesson that you should never leave your children under my supervision.
Wednesday, 17 June 2015
Tomorrow I will have been married for ten years. Other than an opportunity to use a nice juicy future perfect, this also gives me the chance to remind everyone that I have the best wife anyone could hope for.
This has not been an easy pregnancy for her. She has suffered with a number of illnesses during the pregnancy, none dangerous to either her or the baby, but enough to make life much more difficult for her. She has had to deal with two children, one of whom has enough energy to power most of urban Britain and is not afraid to use it all by attempting to destroy most of the furniture, whilst the other one somehow manages to make her sibling seem like the calm and lethargic one. She has continued her usual hectic pace of work and activities, which make me tired just thinking about them, so I probably won’t anymore. She has continued to support me in everything I do, and to encourage me to be the best I can be, which is a real necessity when you are dealing with someone as lazy as I am.
Difficulties, which seem entirely insurmountable to me, melt before her, which can get a little galling when I have stared at a problem for what could have been all day and B will sidle up (considering how big she has got she can still exhibit some pro stealth skills) and suggest a simple, elegant, entirely practical, #whydidn’tIspotthat? sort of a solution that had been staring me in the face (a lot of staring going on there). That happens more in our house than you might expect and I would like to admit.
She seems to have a reserve of energy which manages to carry her through long days chasing after two Tasmanian Devils. I can barely manage twenty minutes after work with them, and it would be a lie if I tried to pretend that my job required any physical effort. I should be at my peak but after an entire day those two can still run me off my feet before tea whereas B has managed with them for 11 solid hours.
Ostensibly this is a blog about how I can’t quite keep up with my children, but none of it would be possible without B being there to clean up after the messes I make. She has bailed me out on many occasions and I don’t know what I would do without her. I suppose I just want to take this time to show my immense gratitude for the way that she makes my life such a fun-filled and laughter-packed one. Here’s to ten more years, one day we’ll laugh about this.
Monday, 15 June 2015
We’ve been away recently. A week with around 350 other Christadelphians at a place in Derbyshire. It is my favourite week of the year and brilliant for the children. You really know you’ve had a great week when N is bawling her eyes out almost all the way home because she “doesn’t want to go hhhhhome.” A sure sign of a week filled with fun and friends.
One of the very best features of where we go is that it is relatively enclosed. We can let N and S have a far greater level of freedom than we would at home because there is so much less that could go wrong. N is old enough to remember what it was like before and so is not really surprised by this any more. S, however. Well, let’s just relive about twenty minutes of his life from last week shall we?