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Cynical Northerner

Dad to be, cynical, nerd

The wait begins

 

So my wife finished work on Friday and it was her first day in the house alone yesterday. I thought she’d be bored but not immediately. If it was me I’d enjoy a day of sitting in my pants playing games and listening to rubbish music that she doesn’t like.

 

Apparently that’s not her style. I came in from work to a mardy (See Arctic Monkeys – Mardy Bum for reference) woman sat on the settee watching the reality drivel that is Real Housewives of Idontknow. She was bored and irritable, and after a pretty crappy day at work I couldn’t be bothered to entertain her immediately. It’s worth bearing in mind when she was working I finished an hour earlier than her so I had time to unwind on my own. I’m a loner by nature and an only child so that 45 minutes to an hour was great.

 

 So yesterday I made my excuses practically immediately as soon as I registered the atmosphere in the house and took the dog out for an hour. I listened to my downloaded radio 4 shows on my phone, Simon Evans for comic relief and Jim Al-Khalili for some bite sized science listening. Feeling much better and seeing that I’d lose the dog on the field if it got any darker I headed back home refreshed and ready to dance like an organ grinder’s monkey to cheer up my wife.  

 

So I danced and I sang, well I didn’t I let her pick the TV and tried to engage her in conversation to no avail. She responded, and talked a little but I didn’t get much back and I eventually retreated into sullen silence.

 

She perked up as we got in bed and cuddled up to me as I read my book.

 

Today I left what little cash I had on me all for 7 pounds on the side for her to put towards something entertaining. I hoped that went someway to alleviating the boredom or at least bought her some chocolate to keep her happy. I cant do 3 weeks (until D-Day) like this.

 

At least the dog will be happy, he might be set for a longer walk tonight!  

Useless Baby Advice

Image result for chocolate fireguard

As the name of my blog suggests I’m cynical and with that comes an innate ability to be irritated by people in general. I don’t show it, I’m generally pleasant to people. However, in a queue in Next waiting to pay for an overpriced cushion my wife picked out, all I want to do is murder the 40-something woman in tight jeans and a fat arse. She’s huffing and puffing because she’s got to wait an extra minute to pay for a similar overpriced cushion set with matching curtains. Grow up, wait a minute, the girl behind the till is 17 and doing her best.

 

The same general irritation applies to baby advice. Most of it isn’t actually advice, not from men anyway. In a pub or other similar social occasion with a group of people (typically my parents friends that have had kids) all you get is an unusual warning. “Oh, get ready!”  said in a foreboding voice is what I usually get. Get ready for what? For parenthood, psht here’s me thinking it would be easy but now thanks to you with your 3 words of usesless advice I’m much more prepared. It’s the tone that gives it the strangeness. Like I’m entering the forbidden forest (Harry Potter reference) or one is simply walking to Mordor (Turns out you can’t do that).

 

Another one I hate is “It’ll change your life completely” Really? Thanks Sherlock.  This was a planned pregnancy. Not a whim. I’m aware that having a child means more than just having an excuse to play with Lego again.

 

Even the ones that are somewhat more helpful are annoying. I say somewhat helpful because what worked for your child probably won’t work for mine. The advice is always unsolicited and when its from someone who you know has bratty kids I don’t think I’ll be paying attention.

 

Unless you have practical advice leave me alone, and then only help when asked. I want to do this myself mistakes and all.

 

I’m male I don’t ask for directions.  

Birthing Partners

We’re getting close now and she has to write in her notes who the birthing partner(s) are so naturally I’m down on there and she’s also written her mother down. That’s fine, its sensible what if something happens and I can’t be there, she’s got a backup.
 

Wrong, she’s considering having us both there at the birth. This only came to light the other day, in Costa, in public. I bit my tongue on what I wanted to say but still expressed my opinion. Whether it was taken on board or not I don’t know. What followed was a mental battle over a frozen mango smoothie and a latte. Both silent and stubborn but in public. Terse questions were asked about which shop we should visit next and when are we going to the supermarket. These did little to break the frosty atmosphere and we left the coffee shop. The mood mellowed as we walked around and we were back to normal as is typical with our small “arguments” whether out loud or silent and brooding. Nothing was resolved and there is still a mother-in-law sized elephant in the room.

 

My issue is that it is our child we are bringing in to the world. I don’t want her mother there any more than she wants my mother there. I realise that it’s for comfort, she’s likely scared and there’s only so much I can do. It will spoil it for me though, I don’t want anyone else taking the moment away from me.

 

I don’t know if its selfish or not. Probably.

 

I’ll likely be told off for bringing it back up again.

Bugger.

Pregnancy Shopping

At first shopping around for baby things and baby clothes was a novelty. Mothercare and Mamas and Papas had cool outfits (I even bought a R2D2 baby grow…with hat!) I didn’t mind spending my weekend searching around Derbyshire and Nottinghamshire looking for anywhere with a baby section. Luckily due to my bonus in the summer and at Christmas we had a good chunk of money in savings to buy pretty much what we wanted within reason. My wife being organised had a list of everything we need and expected prices.

 

Cut to 2017, 5 months of shopping under my belt, nursery practically finished and I am now Ikea furniture God. Sundviks and Hensviks tremble and the clink of my allen keys. All the other essentials are in and we have drawers of clothes from tiny size up to 6-9 months (because it was cute and cheap). We don’t need any more. Yet every weekend we find another shop with a baby section and I have to imitate interest while my wife picks up another tshirt/baby grow with a bear’s face on it. It’s the same as the 3 bear tops we’ve got at home. It’s cute but baby clothes design is very limited. Bears, robots, cars and dinosaurs for boys.

 

As for other bits we’ve got bottles, toiletries, books, toys, a nappy stash and everything in between. The pram is assembled and taking up space where our dining table used to be. We’ve gone overboard, I say we I mean she.

 

If she finds another pointless piece of kit that we don’t need and won’t use I might have to looking for a bigger house (we already live in a 3 bedroom)

 

Mothercare can suck my well sterilised teats.


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