Yesterday was Q’s first birthday and she celebrated by
taking a dive off the bed and giving herself a lovely bruised cheekbone.
We’re not bad parents I promise.
Gregory is.
I wasn’t even here.
Although I should admit that this morning I had to
stop her from swallowing a necklace piece I had left lying around that was a
potential choking hazard.
Have you called DOCS on us yet?
The thing is, this parenting gig is fraught with
potential disaster. There are near-death experiences awaiting your every move.
Only yesterday my friend pinched her son’s skin into
the seatbelt harness when she was putting him in the car.
Not surprisingly he squealed in pain.
The day before that another friend was carrying her
baby and walked her clean into a door. Even worse, all her friends were
watching.
Then there was the time Q came out in a dreadful heat
rash because I had done exactly what they tell you to do and put her in one
more layer than I was wearing and just about cooked her.
Note to self – my babe runs hot like her father.
Or when I was too scared to give her Baby Panadol for the
first time, so she cut her first tooth pain-reliever free.
That would have really sucked.
My brother has squashed her hand against a wall when
he was walking her in the pram. ‘I told you to keep your hands inside the
vehicle at all times Q,’ he said rather unsympathetically.
Anyone that changes her has to perform a UFC move by
trapping her arms with their head, her legs with one arm and dodging a pooey
nappy with the other. ‘It’s like trying to put a cat in a heshen sack,’ says
another brother.
Then there are the amateur mistakes like baths too hot
or too cold. Ditto food. Getting stuck in the rain without any protection and
being forced to walk home while breastfeeding, the water beating down on the
back of your child’s head. Anyone remember the trouble Jackie O got into for
walking while bottle-feeding? Lucky nobody knows me.
Forgetting to give Baby Panadol before your child’s first
vaccines.
Leaving your child with 2 doting uncles and a bottle
of expressed milk, which she refused and decided to scream for 2 hours instead.
Or packing all parts for the bottle except the one
that joins the nipple to the vessel thereby rendering the entire thing useless and forcing your husband to try to drip milk off his finger into your starving
child’s mouth.
Yep, we’ve pretty much covered all areas of bad
parenting, and due to upcoming changes in our family income, it looks like I
may have to venture out into the workforce, so it seems only sensible to do
what I am naturally gifted to do…
Babysit.
20 bucks an hour, cash seems fair don’t you think?
30 if they’re not asleep and I actually have to do
something.
No doubt I’ll fill up pretty fast, so be sure to book
in immediately.
Arrrr! The poor little duckies!!!
ReplyDeleteNo birthday is complete in our house without a head injury.
My husband has banged every baby's head on the car when putting them in their car seat.
I stepped on my baby's arm when she was having 'floor time'.
I could go on and on...
Excellent work! Glad there are others out there...xx
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