‘I’m going to be late home again tonight I’m afraid……hope that’s ok?’ I muttered meekly to High Command over the phone whilst thinking to myself that I had ducked another session of chaos at bed time.
I’ve been a bit quiet recently on the blogging front.
This is mainly due to the fact that we have had our hands full with No3 after her sudden arrival.
Developing a blogging injury also hasn’t helped matters as tapping away on my Smartphone is now restricted to light duties.
But also I have been really busy at work and this has led to long hours.
Now when Poppet our 4yo daughter was born it was all hunky dory and everything was all fluffy and nice and lovely – bed time was a joy.
Then around about aged 2 Poppet was eaten by a monster who is an absolute devil when she’s tired and this normally coincides with the bedtime routine which yours truly rushes home to do after being run ragged at work.
Well that is until recently.
You see I always had it in my head that I would be a hands on father.
That I would juggle work and home life beautifully and ALWAYS be home for bath time (unless I was away with work).
But I have to admit that recently with my work commitments getting busier and quite frankly my stress levels reaching breaking point during the bed time routine I have been working late at work.
Not quite staying at the office playing Tetris to avoid it but its getting close…..
What has made matters worse is that Dumpling our 2yo duaghter was eaten by an even worse Monster at about 18-months and has been a biter/scratcher/kicker/shitbag for the last six months.
And they now team up and run a tag team affair during bath time.
I call it the Witching Hour.
The time when I am exhausted from another gruelling day at the orifice and I walk through that front door and its just sheer chaos.
I have to admit that it really causes me stress to the point that when I pull up on that drive I start to have palpitations.
It’s as if as I walk through the door an imaginary pin is pulled out of a hand grenade and BANG welcome home Daddy.
On a typical evening as I make my entrance I am faced with Poppet crying in hysterics because she hasn’t got her way with something.
Dumpling is just running round the house naked, with her nappy hanging off and trying to bite the dog.
And High Command looks like some sullen prisoner on Death Row.
Sitting down for dinner and attempting to have a conversation is nye on impossible with food being flung everywhere!
And then the fun really begins – ‘Right bathtime’ High Command wails and the skidlets who by this time are so over tired they are knawing at the table legs look at me with that look of ‘Oh Daddy we know you are some high powered executive by day, but during Witching hour your’re our little bitch’ and off they prance up the stairs together!
Bath time now is just a joy….NOT! You can read my 17 Please Don’t At Bath Time here but if they haven’t drunk half the bath water, laced each other’s eyes with shampoo and shat in the bath we are doing well.
Then there’s the negotiations for the number of books they want reading before bed – if Poppet keeps up her negotiating skills she’s going to be another Alan Sugar.
And when they are finally in bed then there is the ‘I want this’ and ‘I want that’ shenanigans for at least an hour before they finally settle.
Or I can make that call, say I am going to be late and walk through that front door with all the kids in bed alseep and all that is left for me to do is to go up and kiss them good night.
But then I feel guilty that all the pressure is on High Command.
But then I think I work hard to enable us to have High Command at home which we both agree is really important to us.
Then I think this really is a head f@#k.
So the above is not how I envisaged parenting and my grand designs of being a hands on parent AND a high flying executive are not quite coming to fruition but I am a great believer in that good things come to those who wait.
Parenting is tough. I struggle sometimes. And boy am I glad that I can dump in on paper so to speak in the hope that it might amuse someone else and that I can find identification with other parents.
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