Explosive Stuff

Fifteen weeks of morning sickness, a cesarian birth, baby up chuck and spraying urinations, when it comes to secretions, it’s not often I get shocked.

But when it comes to “pooh”, Christopher Robin never saw anything quite like this.

Somebody call Triple “Oh-Ohh-Ohhh!”

The first “Oh” is when you open the nappy. The second “Ohh” comes when you see just how runny it is. The third “Ohhh!”…is when you realize the nappy contains only about one third of its natural contents and the other two thirds is distributed up inside his little body suit.

“For the love of god!!!”

Did our son just poop himself or did an A-Bomb just go off in his B-Bom? Holy smokes! It’s pretty clear the Jaws-of-Life are no match for removing his little clothes without incident and the nappy wipes chose to commit suicide, rather than tackle that kind of cleanup.

There’s only one course of action left open to take. We gotta take our little bloke out…

And hose that sucker down!

Or at the very least, get that kid in the shower…STAT!

How does that even happen? He hasn’t been alive long enough to even eat the amount that erupted from Vesuvius. Now I know how the dinosaurs died, trapped beneath a flash-flood mudslide of cosmic proportions. I’m surprised he even has any bones left. Wow!

I haven’t seen that much relief since “Band Aid” or when they finally cancelled Baywatch. If its taught me anything at all, I’ve learned to never underestimate my son, in any capacity.

And if we ever go missing, contact the nearest archeologist and be sure to dig for our fossilized remains beneath the biggest pile of you know what, this suburb has ever seen.

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Oh, Wo-es Her

I never realised MORNING SICKNESS, would be a bit like…

The opening beach scene from…Saving Private Ryan!

It’s violent, gruesome, incessant and…I’m sure I heard a lung come up, (at least once).

And just as it was, as a spectator to the atrocities on the beach from the safety of my cinema seat, I find myself squelching and squirming at the atrocities happening in our bathroom…and feeling equally as powerless to do anything to help my poor, lovely, Private Ryan.

I wish there was something I could do to help. I feel as useless as a no-armed man in a frisbee throwing contest.

That sweaty little face with the morky expression, the reddened cheeks of total exhaustion, the complete and utter depletion of a body, fully spent(I can’t believe I look that bad, when all I’m doing is watching).

But remember…the “no touching” rule, is still in effect!

So, all I can do, is lend my verbal encouragement…

Is that all you’ve got! 

You can do better than that! 

Come on, really put your back into it!

Okay…so maybe, that’s the wrong kind of encouragement.

She just has to settle for my sad puppy dog eyes and a bottle of Aqua, to wash the “sick taste” down.

But we know it’s all towards a good cause…or should I sayoutcome.

Hmm, sorry I brought it up 😉

Tip #1 – Keep Her Happy

So, being a first time dad at 40, I’ve made an interesting discovery, very early on.

Keep in mind, your lady is going through some changes. Physically, emotionally…mentally.

Assume…NOTHING.

Embrace…CHANGE.

Change of mood, change of mind, change of personality…and it can all happen in an instant!

#1 tip for keeping your lady happy – LOVE HER

She needs your love. She wants your love and the best way to support her through those changes…is to love her

BUT…

Don’t touch me!

Don’t breathe on me!

Don’t move around me…please!

Touching her skin…will make her sick.

Talking too close…will make her sick.

Moving an eyelashwill make her(I think you get the picture).

But love her none the less (though it may be through a radiation suit…and from a distance).

But she will love you for it…I guarantee 🙂