Confident and Capable Parenting...

So Martin and I saw a dietician recently who called me a "confident and capable parent" I do wonder what she would of thought of this Friday trip to hell and back...

6.15 am and I'm trudging down the stairs to make a bottle. Our beloved perfect prep machine died last week (R.I.P) and the bastards at Tommee Tippee won't give us a replacement so I'm back to the good old kettle. 

When he wakes my son gives me the most angelic smile, probably to lure me into a false sense of security as when I try to change his nappy all hell breaks loose! 

For those of you that are unfamiliar imagine you are underwater and have grabbed a squid by two tentacles and they thrash wildly you attempt to put a nappy on.

In fact I think I think changing Martin is harder and that's before we start the wrestling match that is putting clothes on. 

This time imagine it's a squid and you're trying to put it in dungarees...

So eventually we head downstairs for breakfast (I'm already exhausted).

Martin is dairy intolerant, I'm constantly searching for new food ideas in order to give him a balanced diet so today I popped some cinnamon and raisin toasties in for him that looked lovely. In the last six months I have pulled out of Martin's mouth...

1. A pound coin

2. Pieces of dried dog food

3. Paper and card

4. A piece of blue plastic 

But when presented with the cinnamon toastie he looked like I'd tried to poison him. 

Prodding, poking and ultimately throwing it on the floor. 

Lately he's been laughing when I put my face close to his so I did that once he'd finished to get a giggle.

WHAM!

I'm seeing stars....

Full on head butt. 

Eyes watering...

I look at Martin and he bursts into tears. Poor bugger must have hurt his rock hard skull on my soft squishy nose. 

After an uneventful dog walk I reluctantly boil the kettle for another bottle cursing Tommee Tippee under my breath as I go. 

I leave Martin standing in the hallway for approximately 30 seconds whilst I pack the bottle into his bag.

I note that he has acquired some sort of white crap on his maroon jeans in this 30 second window and bend down to pick him up. We are running 5 minutes late but that's ok. I bend down to swoop him up and the stench of shit fills my nostrils. Time to wrestle a mermaid followed immediately by a squid... 

Playgroup done and dusted and I'm looking after my niece for the afternoon. She is so delightful, last time she prodded me in the belly and said "Why is your tummy still fat even though Martin isn't in it any more? I go see my mammies friends after their babies come out and their tummies are nice and flat!" 

She's four folks. 

Icing on the cake of my awful day was getting poo on my thumb! (Under the nail too!!) and the cherry on top was the magical, joyous moment that Martin said his first proper word.... 

Yep you've guessed it...

"Dad"