Let me set the scene. Paternity leave is a twinkle in your eye. You are bemused, knackered and starving. There is no food in the house. You have run out of coffee. This is an emergency, you have to actually LEAVE the house, and take the small creature with you. Here is my Inner Monologue of just this situation.
*Lays prone on sofa with sleeping baby sprawled on chest*
God I could use a coffee. We need more coffee, making a coffee in the empty coffee jar hoping that somehow essence of coffee might have permeated the glass and be willing to be reabsorbed into the hot water was a disaster, if I don’t get coffee in the next hour I may fall asleep and never wake up and then social services will get wind of it and lock me away. Better get up.
*Attempts to move baby. Baby wakes up. Baby is hungry*
Ow. Ow. Ow. When will my boobs stop feeling like cheese grated cannonballs? Are you finished? Really? Was that it…oh no. No! I know that look! Ahh, there it goes. Right, let’s both get changed shall we? How the hell did you get it on the sofa? And my socks?? This is a new personal best Baby. Are there competitions for world’s most jet propelled bottom?
*Changes self, Baby, and wipes sofa and floor hopefully*
Right lets pop you in the vibrating chair of magic for five minutes. Where’s the changing bag? Right, let’s check in here. Will 7 nappies be enough? I should put an extra baby grow in. And another pack of wipes. And the sudocrem, calpol and teething gel. I’ll take my book, Baby might have a nap in the pram. Oh and my charger. Should I take my laptop?
*Lifts bag and places on pram. Pram catapults over from weight of bag*
Gah! Thank god I hadn’t put Baby in there! Maybe I won’t take my charger and laptop just for a quick shop and possible coffee shop IF he sleeps trip. What’s the weather doing? Raining? Bugger. I can’t carry an umbrella and push as well my steering is crap at the best of times and we’ll never survive Dog Poo Alley unscathed without both hands on the bar. Where is hell is my anorak? And the rain cover?
*Spends 20 minutes looking for rain cover and anorak. Locate both in bath upstairs*
God I can never get this bloody thing on the pram…oh…no that’s my anorak that’s not going to go on the pram is it. I hope my brain will recover at some point, this relentless stupidity is really quite worrying. Right, lets get Baby.
*Picks up Baby. Baby spews everywhere*
Don’t cry don’t cry, lets get changed again, it’s perfectly acceptable to just baby wipe it off myself as long as he is in clean stuff.
OK Mr Clean Babygro, in you go. Where is your crunchy book? And Sophie Le Fucking Giraffe? Godsake!! Oh, bottom of pram, under three old bagged nappies. Mmm, lovely.
Ok, anorak is good for hiding sick stains, let’s go Cisco!
*Opens door. Blinded by sunlight*
The world hates me. Where are my sunglasses?
*Leaves house. Baby cries. Walks faster. Ignores Baby*
Shit. I’ve forgotten my wallet.