:.Puzz1ed P1ace.:

No, I’ve not lost my wallet again, and SJ’s not hidden the phone… for a change. I’m referring to the past twelve months or, to be more grammatically correct as that would require the title to say ‘where’ve they gone’, the past year.

This time last year I was about to give birth. Well, my wife was really, but I don’t want to sideline myself in the first diary entry: I’ve got the rest of society to do that for me.

Life was fairly normal back then. She worked, I worked, and we spent time together too. I vaguely remember places called ‘cinema’ and ‘pub’ though quite what they are seems to escape me now. We’d recovered from Christmas – it was spent moving house – and were all ready for the big day. Any day now… maybe…

One of the worst things you can do to a perfectionist and control-freak is make them wait for something without telling them exactly when it will be. You’d think after nine months of waiting she’d be used to it, but apparently not.

Here we are waiting again. Well, I am at least. Anytime now SJ will wake up and ask for milk in his usual eardrum-shattering way. We were told at ante-natal classes that there are two ways to bring labour on. One is curry but the midwife was too embarrassed to tell us what the other way is. She just said we’d all done it before. Similarly there are two ways to bring on the cries for milk. One is to make so much noise that everyone in a half-mile radius is woken up (anything quieter will not wake this baby). The other is to turn off the laptop, switch off the light and settle into bed. Guaranteed. Of course there is a very slim chance that he won’t wake for milk. Maybe after his three birthday parties this afternoon he’ll just sleep all night. Three parties! I think I’ve only had that many in my 32 years, yet alone in one day. Still, he loved every minute of it and kept going all afternoon without getting too grouchy. Until about 5.30 when he just got up, walked to his bedroom and waited for us to put him to bed. If only every night was like that.

It is quite alarming how quickly the last year has gone though, and how much has changed.  A year ago it was just the two of us.  Well, sort of. A year ago we both worked, I could get about without using a wheelchair and didn’t rattle from taking numerous tablets in the vain hope some of them might help me get through each day. The washing machine was used a couple of times each week rather than a couple of times every day, and we played playstation rather than ‘name the stain on the carpet’.  A year ago the house was tidy, everything was packed and ready just in case, and we were waiting. Now? The phone’s in the bath, I’ve lost my wallet as well as my marbles, the house is a mess, but the waiting’s over. We’ve got a fantastic baby boy…. who wants his milk.

bookmark to:

posted evening time in Diary…Disabled Dad by puzz1ed1 | 2,701 Views |
(No Ratings Yet)  Loading ... |  Print This Post | | 2 Comments
leave a response, or trackback from your site | view RSS feed |