Santa’s Li’l Helper

Waking up to the sounds of a giggling child, I’m reminded that I really should change my alarm ring tone to something a little more grown-up. And as I hit the snooze and roll over to be greeted by the warm comfort of baby sick down my front, I’m also reminded that I really should shower and change my shirt before coming to bed of an evening.

But amid the fabricated exploits of this morning’s misadventures, I can’t help but feel there’s a certain sense of excited anticipation about this morning that I haven’t experienced since my wedding night, and before that…when I was a kid. If only I could put my finger on exactly what it is…oh, wait. I know what it is. It must be…

Christmas Morning!!

And the reason for my heightened level of excitement, is of course, the fact that this is…

Indy’s First Christmas…

And our first Christmas…as a family.

And although he’s not quite 6 months old, his gung-ho-ho-ho attitude to tear open presents, feign real surprise, stuff anything he can into his gob (Christmas paper, tinsel, boobs, penguins) anything that is, except actual food (still can’t quite manage to master that, quite yet), not to mention allowing himself to be dressed in the shrinky-dink Santa style outfit suitable of the Festive Season, with such vigour and gay abandon, that I’m reminded a third time, about how great Christmas is when you’re a kid.

And everything kind of goes hazy and wobbly as I remember back to when Michael J Fox came downstairs in his APK monogrammed bathrobe on Christmas morn…(wait…wrong flash-back…that was Family Ties!) When I was a kid and my parents would sprinkle naphthalene flakes on the ground and tell us they were dried snow-flakes, scratch marks on the driveway where Santa’s sleigh had landed, asbestos cookies with a glass of milk…ahh, those were the days. And I can only imagine the enormous pleasure of watching us tear our presents open with as much excitement and fervour as Kirsty Alley devouring a Twinkie.

And watching our Li’l Santa spread joy to the faces of our friends, family and work colleagues as they’re engulfed in his broad Christmas smile, I watched his face transform with a sense of awe and wonder as we paraded him through the Christmas light displays of the Christmas Kingdom warehouse (post Christmas), like he was a tiny Christmas elf experiencing his own private Disneyland. That look was enough to melt Frosty’s heart and makes me look forward to all the years ahead of making every Christmas for our boy seem like…

Well…Christmas!

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Aussie Daddy Blogger Advent Calendar Challenge 2012

Well, the Aussie Daddy Blogger Kris Kringle Advent Calendar Challenge 2012 has kicked off into high gear with some surprising questions and answers that make 50 Shades of Grey look like a Greeting Card. So, rather than repost everything here, it’s easier to see it all under one roof, (just like a Daddy Expo or dare I say…Exposé?).

So, for all the weird and wacky, click on the Official Daddy Blogger Seal for the full rundown of hilarious posts by our uniquely minded, Aussie Daddy Bloggers.

With contributions from BIG FAMILY, little income, Reservoir Dad, The Melbourne Dad, Being A Dad, daddownunder, Torkona, The Illiterate Infant, TackleNappy, 3am Dad and myself (who was that masked man?), you’re guaranteed to never be short of a smile or at the very least, a curious eyebrow raise. So, jump on over and take a “look-see”, then watch out for my post on December 21st where I’ll definitely have some things to say about…stuff’n’that as I unlock the secrets to the universe…(and drive it around a bit without my parent’s knowing).

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The Lone Ranger

“A fiery horse with the speed of light, a cloud of dust and a hearty “Hi Ho Silver, Away!”

It’s amazing how much easier it is to sleep without all the usual gurgling, farting, snorting, cooing, squeaking, squawking that normally goes on of an evening. And now that Indy’s in his own room at the other end of the house…he shouldn’t be able to hear any of it!

That’s right, Indy has saddled up his trusty steed and headed out west to the open pastures of his Big Boy Cot on the sweeping plains (or at least, some light vacuuming), of his very own room. And although he’s still sleeping for about the same length of time (every 3-4 hours), it has improved the quality of sleep, somewhat.

Not his…ours.

And in the few minutes of actual sleep that we do get, it seems to be a much deeper sleep. Which is why my wife sounds like Barry White(and I sleep with one eye open).

But just because he’s now up the other end of the house, does not mean he’s out of sight nor out of mind (though at times, it feels like both of us are out of the latter). We still manage to keep a close eye and ear on him, as well as monitor every farty-party aspect of his behaviour, through the ever watchful eyes and ears of the Baby Monitor.

Indy’s time in the Big Brother HOUSE has begun.

And the monitor we bought way back when at the Baby And Toddler Expo (see post here), has some cool features like infra-red video, audio, temperature readout, lullaby music control and night light, all controlled from our handset. It does have another function that was probably good in theory, but not so much in practice. It’s a Push-to-Talk feature. In other words, you can push a button and talk to Indy to calm him down when he’s upset, from the warmth and comfort of our own bedroom, kind of like an intercom. HOWEVER…you can’t hear s#*t, when his air-raid siren is blaring. So, in essence, it’s just like the phone coverage we get from 3 and Vodaphone. We stand there yelling into the damn thing until we just give up and text each other or walk over and talk to each other in person.

And the other thing I discovered about having Indy in his own room, is sneaking out of the room when he’s asleep is a lot like stepping off a land-mine or diffusing a bomb. You move slowly and stealthily. You’re under the exact same pressure to leave that room quietly, as you are asking yourself, “do I cut the red wire or the green wire?”

Because all it takes, is one wrong step and…

KABLOOEY!!!

It’s back to square one for you.

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