No-one ever said this would be easy, and we certainly didn’t walk into it with our eyes shut. Sometimes though, the realities of having a child hit home, sometimes in humorous ways.
When we were expecting T, we had lists of things we needed to buy. Piles of clothes, nappies, wipes, a cot, car seats, prams, baby monitors, and much more, began to accumulate. When it’s all piled up in the nursery it looks like a lot of stuff. Then they grow. More clothes are need. Toys are required. Oh, we need to start weaning, so we need a cupboard full of plastic tableware, various foodstuffs and LOTS of bibs. The bigger they get, the more stuff they need. This ‘stuff’ ends up scattered throughout the house.
We have 2 sofas. One we sit on. It is not unusual to sit down and something squeaks under your bottom. No, not the child, but some noisy toy. The other sofa is storage space for slings, baby carriers, cloth nappies that need putting together, spare items of clothing, all that sort of stuff.
The highchair lives in the kitchen, and we frequently catch our feet in the legs of it as we walk past, either tripping ourselves or stubbing our toes. And last night, as I pulled back the quilt to get into bed, I found a packet of baby wipes nestled on the sheet. Why, and how, I have no idea. The terrifying thing is, we are the ones responsible for the mess right now. I am led to believe that once T is a toddler, he will be busy hiding items in unusual places.
This afternoon, another aspect of parenthood reared it’s head. I was in the kitchen making sandwiches, and DH came in and picked up a set of keys, on his way to take some stuff out to the garage. This was the following conversation:
Me: Can you take that bread out to the freezer while you’re at it?
DH: Yes, in a minute. (Heads upstairs)
Me: Where are you going?
DH: Need to pee.
Me: What do you need the keys for?
DH: (Without missing a beat, and I think I detected a note of humour) To unlock my chastity belt!