Kevin McAllister’s time home alone was a bit up and down. So too has it been for Milo and I.
I would suggest at this point Marv and Harry have fallen for all of the outer perimeter tricks; fireworks in the bin, scalding hot doorknob, slippery front steps. But they have somehow recovered from their horrific injuries and have made it inside the house. The ending, at this point, is not certain.
Yesterday (Wednesday) was family funday as Kuepps had to go up to the Gold Coast overnight for work this morning (Thursday being the usual day off). We look forward to her returning on Friday evening.
So, we are currently midway through our first ever 36 hour straight period as a twosome, which importantly includes an overnight. Today was also Milo’s first ever swimming lesson. Potentially a little ambitious on such a day.
Swim school, I am sure, will in time be something that Milo enjoys and looks forward to. Not so today. Despite Kuepps’ very sensible warnings, and our best efforts we arrived way too early for our 1130 class. After registering at the front desk and changing the wriggliest baby on earth on the floor of the male change room I made my first mental note for next time. Bring less stuff. Sunglasses? Not required. Ergo carrier? Not required. Jumper, tracksuit pants for me? Not required. Wallet? Phone? Not required. Not required.
Anyway I managed to get him into his very cute swimming outfit and then awkwardly carried all of our possessions out to the side of the pool where we began sitting and waiting. We were about 20 minutes early and about 3 minutes into that 20 I realised the most important reason why you want to move directly from the change room into the pool. Urine.
Milo, as all infants, pees all the time. His waterproof swimmers are good at catching serious trouble but allow urine to stroll pass unhindered. After about 3 minutes of sitting on my lap Milo began peeing and didn’t seem to really stop until it was time to get in the pool. I presume this was okay because we were sitting in an area with a concrete floor that gets hosed down regularly, but we were both thoroughly saturated before the class began.
Things started okay, bobbing around, collecting colourful balls and placing them in a bucket but once we started cruising around on our backs Milo’s antennae went up. By the time we were playing ‘egg on the plate’, or ‘egg off the plate’ (I can’t remember) Milo was very distressed indeed and letting me know about it. When he was on the plate (a wobbly semi-buoyant mat) the ground moved under him and waves slapped him in the face periodically. When he was off the plate he was dunked completely under the water. Poor little man was clinging to me like a baby koala and climbing me to get as far above the water surface as possible. There was another kid in the class, Lennox, who had just turned one. His demeanour could not have contrasted better with Milo. While on the plate his expression could only be described as bored, he sort of examined his cuticles and reclined languidly, solid as a rock, while his dad tried to get some kind of wave action going; it reminded me a little of Ogre competing in the ‘Trojan Horse’ event of the Greek Games in Revenge of the Nerds (the original). When he was off the plate he re-emerged from beneath the surface with the same bored expression on his face and spat water at his dad in a non-hurried spout.
Mercifully the class was over quickly so I carried my frantic child on one hip and the rest of our ridiculous possessions on my other. Back in the change room I attempted to quickly warm Milo up and rinse some chlorine off him in the shower. Very exercised already about water flying at his face he had none of this plan, screaming and clinging painfully tightly to my shoulder. I got the message quickly and instead moved to quickly dry, affix nappy and dress him in his blue bear suit. Not easy in a change room with a wet floor (and aforementioned wriggliest child on earth). I managed this but then had no idea how to dry and dress myself. After some contorting I managed to dress myself and Milo was starting to calm down as we left the centre.
Back in the car Milo quickly fell asleep after his long ordeal so I had no option but to drive aimlessly around the industrial inner-west of Sydney giving him a chance to unwind a little. As it was lunchtime we managed to execute a perfect McDonald’s drive-through without the child stirring, great McParenting.
After an hour or so we were home and Milo was feeling much better. I cooked him an omelette and we ate it together with our hands and he seemed to have forgiven me for the most part. After a stroll to the post office in the pram it was close to 4 and Milo was becoming cantankerous to I graciously offered him the chance to have a nap.
Milo was very displeased with this offer so we wrestled noisily for about an hour before I had the brain wave of giving him a bottle of formula (should have been parenting 101). Milo attacked the bottle with enthusiasm, a little too much enthusiasm. Coupled with his exercised state, a tummy full of digesting omelette and a flood of warm milk I got to witness my first projectile vomit which hit me with full force mostly in the chin and neck area. Somehow in the confusion quite a lot also ended up on my forehead.
Within moments the bed was stripped, as were we both and Milo was giggling and feeling much better about the world. I thought the best way forward was an old-fashioned hose down in the shower but alas Milo had immediate flash-backs. So for the second time in a day I stood awkwardly nude, half in the shower while my son screamed and tried to launch himself into mid-air away from the water. I conceded quickly and decided an early bath might be the solution.
So we bathed, dressed, gave Milo a little more dinner and played for two hours or so until finally just after 7 Milo conceded defeat and went to sleep after almost 6 hours awake. We shall see what the night holds for us but in the meantime I am determined to get my Game of Thrones tally on the board.
- Number of pairs of sunglasses necessary for swim school – 0
- Number of times Milo splashed the water with his hands willingly – 0
- Estimated number of classes before Milo dunks without yelling – 4
- Number of large Big Mac meals eaten in the car – 1
- Game of Thrones episodes – 1 (aspirational)