Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.

Thursday 22 April 2010

And the award goes to...

My daughter turned one today and it occurred to me that's a whole year that I have survived as a parent or more importantly she has just simply survived! Babies don't come with a manual...unfortunately. Although where would you even start with one of those, babies are slightly more complicated than a Ford fiesta or a DVD player. And they would definitely give flat pack furniture a run for it's money when it comes to confusing and complex instructions!

And what would happen when your baby started to malfunction, "But darling it says in the manual feed every three hours from newborn, she can't possibly be hungry again it's only been an hour and a half"? "Well we could try returning her sweetheart but I think I've lost the receipt". Erm...I think not! That's the lovely thing about babies of relatives, friends, work colleagues etc...You can hand them back when they get sleepy, grumpy, hungry, sick and you are never expected to change a dirty nappy, well okay maybe a wet one but never a poo-ie one. I wonder how many dirty nappies I have changed in the last year? Gavin seems to have developed an allergy to them, shame I didn't think of that first. Damn!

So never mind all these election promises the politicians are making about the economy, the war, the state of schools or hospitals or crime...blah, blah, blah. If you want people to vote for you then offer proper incentives, like medals and awards for surviving as a parent in this 21st century world where we have health and safety coming out of our ears until they bleed, where every single unmarried man is a potential pedophile (PLEASE!!! Talk about mass hysteria) and a social services system that will allow children to die in horrifically awful circumstances, beaten and starving but will take your child off you for being overweight! (And I know my mother would berate me for the last statement but I don't care!). I think at the very least a day at a free spa wouldn't go a miss, because after 52 weeks of dirty washing that would put a laundrette to shame, 365 nights of disrupted sleep and 8, 760 hours of cleaning, washing, feeding, sterilising, changing, rocking, singing and crying (me and Emily) I could really do with a facial, sauna and a back massage!       

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