Domestic Bliss….

After much consideration, I have come to the conclusion that I am a domestic god! My reason for this is quite simple, if I do not tell myself this, no one else will. Having stopped full time employment in April 2011, I have simply transferred my keen organisational abilities into my day to day domestic operations. At least that is what I would like you to believe. To wash, clean, cook and nurture child at the same time is an amazing test of human capabilities that far exceeds anything that the corporate world can chuck at you. Especially if things go wrong, for example, you cannot put a teething child that has had Calpol and Dentinox, and is still screaming at you, on performance management. To instigate disciplinary proceedings for ripping out the pages of books instead of reading them, would probably be ignored, and the chances of getting them summarily dismissed for gross misconduct are negligible at best. No, this is indeed like having to deal with the ultimate empowered militant. There can be no performance reviews that start with the line “how do you feel things are going?” continue with “talk me through your day?” and end with the overly sympathetic “so that’s why I’m marking you down as having clear development needs!”

None of this is possible. You need to have the man management skills that only the top business schools would be paid fortunes for. You need to be able to tease, ease and tempt your child into your way of thinking, and you need to do this without the luxury of handing over the issue to the HR department. Currently I am reviewing baby Friday’s progress towards my target of walking before his first birthday, as this has now passed and he isn’t running around like a gazelle, he has clearly failed in this objective. The review is focused around whether or not baby Friday was supplied with the correct tools in order to complete the task? The review is ongoing and the results will be published at a later date, this is partly due to the fact that I am in the process of carrying out a restructure of the catering department.

"I'll come in on Saturday and get this finished!".....

Anti-Biotical warfare…..

Is it really necessary for a course of anti-biotics to last as long as it does? Or for as long as those sadistic GP’s prescribe? For the medical reasons for this click here, for the emotional and practical reasons against, read on. Baby Friday has not long finished his third round of amoxicillin in his first year after yet another head/flu/virusy/nose like a tap/can’t say exactly what it is type scenario, albeit a scary one this time as his temperature had reached 40c! When the GP stated “it’s anti-biotic time” my heart sank. Not out of sympathy for my poor, sick child having to have medicine again. But because of the fact that I am now going to have to spend the next 9-10 days, three times a day, trying different ways of getting the bloody stuff down him, with the last 4-5 of those days carrying out the various charades when the child is so obviously better.

I am convinced that the doctors prescribe courses lasting this long as a form of deterrent. “Who are you? You dare to wake me from my slumber!” they think as you walk into their examining room “you will think again after this!” they chuckle as they hand you the prescription which entitles you to a week of yellow stained bibs and baby grows. You then have to go through with the pretence of making out you take the stuff as well “daddy have some! Yum, yum, yum!” you say holding the spoon to your mouth as they stare back at you wondering what the hell you are doing.

There are always the Syringes you can get for this, without needles of course, but this runs the risk of after having held them firmly on your lap and watched the liquid disappear into their mouths and feeling incredibly pleased and relieved that they have taken the correct amount, it comes flying back out like a geo-thermal geyser found in Iceland or somewhere, and as for the stuff tasting like banana, I strongly suggest that the manufacturer’s quality control department has a restructure. The only way to combat this issue is quite simply not to allow baby Friday out. Deny him all contact with other human beings and their bugs until he is at least 18 years old. I wonder if they still accept children at Benedictine monasteries?

"yes, yes they'll absolutely love it!.....taste's just like coke!!"