Prior to him being born I thought I had fatherhood down. Images of happy smiling boy, with me bumping him up and down on my knee flashed through my mind. In my head, the boy never cried and his nappy's were changed by some invisible force, not seen to my imaginary situations eyes.
Real life however has hit me in the head like some sort of freight train. Turns out babies are life's real Chuck Norris' - they don't care what time it is, what mood you are in, if you have done a 15 hour day. They are going to let you know they are hungry and no amount of bouncing-on-knee is going to achieve a single god damn thing, except make baby chuck up. And what are you going to do about it?
Nothing. Nothing is what you do about it. Your normal reaction to a human being screaming in your lug hole at 4am, whilst another human being (say my wife) is barking instructions in your other listening hole, is to tell the screaming human to be quiet.
Except that isn't possible, because little human has no way of conversing with you other than crying. This is JJs only way of letting you know hes less than happy. Besides he is far too cute to shout at....my wife likes to shout at me instead. Thats cool. Because all JJ is trying to say is:
"I am hungry!" WAHHHHHHHHH.
"I don't like the way you are holding me" WAAAAHHHHHHHH
"That face you just pulled isn't nearly funny enough" WAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!
"I just shit my pants whilst sneezing and now I have snot over my front, and shit at the back, how in gods name are you going to pick me up to clean me?" WAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
Thankfully for me and the wife, JJ decides to only really cry and kick off at about 11pm - 6am. So by time he is in mid flow, we are so tired it seems like a bad dream.
That's cool though, I can handle that. He's a baby. Babies cry.
Babies also crap themselves a lot though.
I'm not going to exaggerate here, I'm the general at whipping off a damp nappy. I can get that boys nappy off, body wiped, talcum powder liberally applied and new nappy on faster than Jordan finds a new husband.
When he craps himself however......I just struggle with it. The wife can do it so fast it's like one of them magicians whipping off a table cloth. You know, done real quick and once its done everything is where it should be.
I do it, take my time, be careful and the boy ends up with shit on his forehead and elbows.
It just doesn't make sense.
My wife also seems to have a natural selection kind of genetic immunity to the smell of the boys poop. Honestly I love him, hes of my blood and my son and heir, I would put my life before his in a heart beat and do what needed to be done to provide for him.
But by god his shit stinks.
Its like some sort smelly mustard gas bomb. Gets on your throat, stings your eyes and makes you want to gag. The wife hums a tune, smiling throughout it all, like he craps flowers or something, god knows how.
The above is what I feel like writing about, as it's what shocked me most. My inability to mentally prepare for what is so obvious, yet never enters a mans brain.
I already knew that his first smile (Happened last week, but saw my first this week) would fill me with an awe I've never felt. I already knew that realizing he recognized my face once I came back from work would be awesome. I knew, hand on heart, that the boy would be the single best thing I have ever experienced in my life.
I just didn't realise his crap would stink so bad and that he would make me quite so sleepy. Thing is, the first 18 Paragraphs of this post pale into insignificance to the final.
Below is a pic of me and the boy napping, which was caught by my little sister. How can you not love the very bones of that little boy? No, I don't know either.
No comments:
Post a Comment