“Daddy; would you prefer a dog or an Osprey?”
………?
BSD
Meanwhile, at dinner..
Can you dig it? yes you can!
Day two of half term, and I’ve got this covered.
Proper planning has led me to have most of this holiday covered. As I’ve stated before (probably to myself to be fair) proper planning prevents poor performance. Anyway, last week I found out that our local museum was hosting a fossil event, where for a small fee participants could engage in some palaeontology.
Right up my daughter’s street and my son is happy to play along too.
Being a proper planner, I allow an hour for us to get there. It’s a 5 minute drive so we’re stupidly early; oh well.
A quick wander around in the bleak mid-winter to find a cash-point sees us pretty happy to be back indoors and wandering around the museum. 30 minutes to go. You enter the museum through the gift shop; nice one folks; I see what you did there.
As we queue, my youngest slowly rotates, next to a display of plates and glass ornaments. I put a stop to that.
There’s a guy upstairs sitting behind a table of fossils so we stop for a chat.
He’s fascinating and has a real enthusiasm for what he’s doing. She’s enthralled. He eyes the gentleman up suspiciously, as only my boy cub can, and keeps his distance.
We’re reliably informed that there are more goodies downstairs, so we head for adventure, headlong into a cafe.
Nice going museum; I see what you did there. The fatal attraction of a fridge full of cakes draws them both in and they turn to look at me.
What came over me?
Not sure what I was thinking, I let them choose whatever they want. She goes for a modest slice of cheesecake whilst he opts for a slice of chocolate cake. Not like the one above; oh no. there was no strawberry on his choice. Instead, the chocolate cake he chose was bedecked with sugar-coated sweets; the kind I bought for a penny in my childhood. It was almost as if the creator wasn’t satisfied with the sugar content of the plain chocolate cake, then decided to push the tooth rotting factor up to 11.
I bought it anyway as we had 20 minutes to kill.
I decided to share the cake with him, convinced that he would struggle with the volume and richness. I underestimated him. I think I had one or two forkfuls, but tired of the battle to wrestle it away from him after the second attempt.
To his credit, he managed to funnel about 90% into his head with 5% spread around his face. The other 5% appears later.
And we’re in!
I hadn’t imagined quite how popular the event would be. One minute we were alone, the next we were awash with parents and children. It was nice to see so many people out and about and the collective excitement level was contagious.
There were four stations for enquiring minds to visit; an expert, a mask making station, a microscope bench and a simulated dig. I thought the latter looked like two cat litter trays but I kept that to myself.
They were straight in; the added bonus being that they could keep one of the fossils that they found. Four fossils each later (in quite a short time) we discussed the lesson of sharing and leaving some for others whilst reburying their three least favourite.
Advancing to the bench of microscopes for a close up of some minerals we queued behind a three deep moving mass of buggies and bodies. This was very popular, but not with us. As she has three microscopes at home, we decided to show our fossils to the expert upstairs and create some masks.
Home run
He was busy. I really underestimated this. No matter; we went to the masks. One Triceratops (her) and a T-rex (him).
With crayon, felt-tip, marker pen and glue stick it took an absolute age for them to colour in their choices. For reasons known only to her, she decided to use the finest tipped pen to embolden her creation. He was a bit more pragmatic and broad-stroked a fisted crayon across his picture. Not surprisingly he was finished in no time. She slumped further in her chair when I told her that she would have to do the other side too.
Staples, glue, elastic and a healthy dose of imagination later and the cubs were transformed into whatever dinosaur young are called. Happy.
Unnoticed, we’ve spent two hours here. It’s been brilliant.
As we get up to leave, she notices a thick brown stain on the bum and leg of his beige trousers. She recoils and points all at once but before she can comment, I run my finger along the stain and then pop it in my mouth. I turn and tell her..
We have to go now; he’s done a poo.
I thought she was going to faint.
I do like chocolate cake.
BSD
When to step in…
It’s half-term here and the cubs are with me.
Whilst the wearing down of my energy levels begins, I’m eternally grateful that they’re here.
Once they’re fed, they’re playing boisterously with one another. Watching them, I reflect on the rough and tumble that I had with my sisters growing up; it was great fun.
I also think back to my risk tolerance, which was obviously a lot higher back then.
They fight, wrestle, kiss and cuddle but every move seems to bring their heads dangerously close to every corner in the room that I’d never noticed before.
I flinch a lot but I try not to step in. I’m a great believer in learning from experience, as long as that experience doesn’t involve surgery.
They’re fine.
They then decide that they need to be outside. I can’t agree more. It’s about 3C with ice still on the ground, but there’s no such thing as bad weather, just bad clothing.
Nah; I don’t believe that either. It’s horribly cold. I send them out anyway.
She’s off with the keys and heading for the garage; she wants her archery set. I’m not out there to supervise and wonder if I need to be. I trust her. The only rule is that there is no shooting if her brother is down range.
I guess we’re at the crossroads where I have to relinquish some of that responsibility to them, well, more to her as she is older and know that whatever will be will be.
Helicopter parenting can do more damage than a bump on the head.
Here are two occasions when I have stepped in; I was ironing in my room and they were in her room; the following sentences had me running:
“It’s time for the sacrifice!”
and
“We can either chop your head off, or half of your head off”
I think she’s been doing history at school.
BSD
What’s on the contraband shelf today?
Here’s mine.
It’s actually the kitchen worktop but it’s where the cubs get patted down, airport style, before we leave for school and nursery.
I have to admire them; they never tire in their attempts to get stuff out.
It gets cleared at the weekend.
What’s on yours?
BSD
Hair
It’s an issue; but it needn’t be.
The combing of it, the cutting of it and well general maintenance. Constant consternation.
The cubs are mixed race. A term I hate as it signifies the human desire to neatly pigeon-hole everything away. Everything must have a classification. I digress.
They are half Afro-Caribbean, and technically quarter Mauritian, quarter Scottish. To the eye, they’re Caribbean. Hope you’re keeping up.
Their ethnicity is important because their hair is typical of our race; slightly thicker and prone to tangles if not cared for correctly. Correctly maintained, it looks amazing. This subject has caused and causes countless rows.
Girl cub loves having her hair done and always did. We had a heck of a search for the rights products but when we found them, bingo. Products are the key.
Boy cub? well that’s a whole separate chapter. All I can say is sorry. To my neighbours, passers-by and probably to a couple of nearby postcodes. Washing his hair sounds like a horrific assault.
I mentioned a while back that when he was younger, we nearly lost him to an ear infection that put pressure on his brain. The resolution, following a brief stay in hospital, was to be fitted with grommets. A drawback of having grommets is that you have to limit water getting into the ears.
When his hair needs washing, out comes the cotton wool. And the screaming. I mentioned horrific before. It really is quite bad.
He hates it. He hates water in his face and in his eyes and isn’t shy at letting you know. I tried so many different things including using dry flannels, getting him to look up, using the shower (with and without the head) and using a cup. All resulted in increased decibels.
I went to the internet for help.
I found this
There was the usual due process that I apply to everything and I wasn’t convinced. It was 32p, so I bought it.
It took a while to arrive so I promptly forgot that I bought it. It arrived and I thought it was a suspect package.
I opened it, and I wasn’t convinced. It was folded for easy transit so it was badly misshapen.
I tried it on and nearly passed out. In their defence, they’re made for kids and I’m not the smallest of humans.
Bath-time arrived and I decided to give it a try. I took it out of the hair product basket in the bathroom and showed it to him.
He looked at it for a little while, then shook his head.
We tried it anyway.
It worked and I stand corrected. This could be the best 32p I’ve ever spent.
BSD
Is it always a struggle?
This question seems to roll around my head quite often; usually when I forget how lucky I am.
“Only dead people never get stressed, never get broken hearts, never experience the disappointment that comes with failure.
Tough emotions are part of our contract with life” Susan David, PhD
I lifted this straight off of a Ted Talk that I stumbled across on twitter. I like it. At some point this weekend I’ll listen to it all, but it did get me thinking.
Why do we have adversity?
I think there are a number of answers to this question, the main one being equilibrium. A term that actually refers to the state of a chemical reaction in equal flux but has found comfortable use in day-to-day language.
Balance. That’s why. If we didn’t have the rough, we would neither recognise or enjoy the smooth.
Then there’s the others
As in the worse off. There is always someone worse off than you. It’s worth remembering but to be honest, that’s a skill. A divine one at times.
Silver lining
This is the bit I like. I’ve spoken about it before; when going through tough times, something invariably turns up to turn the tide.
It’s always worth remembering this.
It’s also worth remembering, as the psychologist Susan David said, the only way to avoid the pain and heartache that comes with life is to not live it. Don’t expose yourself to it. Don’t take chances.
But where’s the fun in that?
So as you’ve probably picked up, things are challenging at the moment. The positive thing is that I now recognise the signs. Once you can do this, you can attempt to control your responses.
Owning your feelings and responses is a better option than shying away from any experience that may well be painful.
The greatest rewards are often linked to the greatest risk.
Ending on a cliché,
BSD
PS, stay positive my lovely people.
Normal service
OK. I’ve calmed down. The last couple of posts were a mixture of anger and frustration, but I’m better than that.
In order to lighten the mood, I’ve amalgamated the 3 posts that have been sitting in draft.
Whole lotta 👅 going on
The usual Friday bedtime routine consists of me explaining to the cubs that they can’t sleep in my bed. Sometimes I mean it. This time I did.
They have a workaround. First thing on Saturday morning, they jump into bed with me and we have a cuddle and watch a movie. This time, I even let them consume a bag of popcorn in my bed.
Bad idea.
At a glance, I would say that their success rate for popcorn to mouth was roughly 50%. Give or take a 5% margin. Once the film finished I told them that I wanted all the uneaten bits cleaned up while I was in the shower.
Whilst brushing my teeth, I heard a commotion followed by silence. I resisted the urge to look.
When I did emerge, the bed was clean, the duvet turned down and they were nowhere to be seen. Nice work cubs.
That evening at bedtime, whilst reading Dig dig digging for the millionth time, I thanked them for tidying my bed.
“That’s ok dad; once we’d got the big bits we just licked the rest clean”
I sat silently, asking Jesus why he’d let something like that happen.
Getting my own back
Tonight’s routine was a little muted. They’re both under par so there was little resistance.
Tucking in the eldest, she remarked that she felt awful with the flu. Her temperature was elevated and she had a headache.
“Dad? How does flu spread?”
Well it’s a virus that is very clever once it gets in your system. It can hide, it can change, known as mutation and will act differently in different people.
“Yes but how does it get into your body?
This is where it gets really interesting; it’s so clever that it knows it prefers to be inside new people to survive so what it does is to make you cough and sneeze and it’s then carried in the thousands of water droplets that come out of us when we do. If you breathe those water droplets in the virus gets into you. It can also survive for 24 hours on hard surfaces like door handles. You’ll then come along and touch that door handle, then touch your face. The result is the same.
She silently takes it all in and begins to process it.
“So when we were in the car with you daddy, that’s when we got it?”
No. I kept licking your face while you slept.
“DADDY!!”
Sprint finish
” Dad; I think you need a new workout. I’ve made one for you”
Ok sounds good. What’ve you got?
“Well you start of with 25 star jumps..”
Ok; then?
“Then you move onto 25 press ups..”
Sounds good. Anything else?
“You should touch your toes 3 times..”
Sounds like a spell now but go on..
“Then finish with a small run; say 13 miles”
I’ll pass.
BSD
Unexpected revelation
I still have flu. It really sucks. This isn’t a moan-fest. It might just be a tender look into myself.
I think the biggest reason being ill and subsequently off work sucks so much is because it’s highlighted the emptiness of my nest.
I have the cubs from tomorrow and all over the weekend and I can’t wait. At the same time, I’m also willing myself to be better so I can make a decent job of looking after them. I’m aware this is wishful thinking. I’ve already silenced the man-flu-ers with a 6 pound weight loss in the last week.
I’m rambling.
The last week has been a GroundHoggy existence of sleeping and falling asleep, punctuated by scant eating.
Unseen elements
So this empty nest thing is the single parent conundrum. Do you get a place that is big enough for your family or something more compact and bijou?
I went for space. I have one of each and they’re getting to an age where they want their own space so it was a no brainer.
The flip side of having the bigger place is that as the non-main-caregiver (how 21st Century) is that for the majority of the time, you kick around it on your own.
I’ve noticed this more because I’m not at work.
The elephant
So the revelation is that the empty nest seems emptier
Hang on
I’ve literally just had a nap. I was rambling so I shut down for a bit. Hate this.
The elephant. cont.
Is that to be ill when one lives alone is, well, lonely.
I’ve spent a lot of time in bed lately just trying to shake things off and for the last week there’s been a pile of clean laundry on my bed.
It was folded and waiting for me to put it away but has since been fashioned into a pile, about the height of sleeping person to which I have been propping myself up of a nighttime.
I hadn’t thought much of it as I’d done it unconsciously over a few days. Plus, research says that sleeping with your head slightly elevated whilst suffering from flu is beneficial to breathing.
I think I miss the ‘Do you want anything?’ type questions and the fact that at some point, food would arrive.
I did a slow cooker thing that lasted 3 days but now I need to stand up and cook.
I’m not going to.
Let’s kill this
Well folks this is a ramble fest. Sorry.
The moral of the story is, being ill sucks when you’re single.
100% more optimism will be available in my next post.
BSD
First day of the school term
Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
Or close the wall up with our English dead
“It’s only school dad; and that sounds like a bad thing to do”
Some children have no sense of occasion.
BSD
Not quite there yet.
Has everyone had a nice Christmas?
I have, and so have the cubs. It was so far removed from what I endured last Year that it’s incomparable.
In those 365 days I’ve learnt so much about myself and the people that come into my life and more importantly, those who remain.
The cubs have had a brilliant time and have been showered with love (and presents). So much so in fact that I have decided to donate some to a local children’s hospice. I want to give back and the only reason I’ve written about it here is to maybe trigger thoughts in others as to how we can give back or help those less fortunate.
This isn’t my review of 2017, in fact I’m not going to do one; I’m not that interesting.
I will be doing one more post and that will be regarding the second part of the race to zero.
Resolutions
To read more of your blogs. I love doing so as it gives me inspiration, advice and makes me chuckle.
They also serve to remind me that I’m not the only one pushing forwards and trying to make sense of this all.
Keep on keeping on folks xx
PS.
Like a glutton for punishment I had both of them in my bed last night as they’ll now be with Mum for a week or so.
Both of them expanded like magic bath toys, moaned every hour on the hour, leaked a nappy onto me and said bed and I’m so sleep deprived I feel I may expire but, I couldn’t be happier.
BSD
broke-single-dad 