I know what you’re thinking… another birth story. Nope. I don’t want to talk to you about Squish’s birth, I want to talk to you about …
THE BIRTH OF SQUISH
Being new parents we were probably more delicate than him in the first few weeks and part of me sensed that he knew it. He could smell the fear… reveled in it! The day had finally come to bring home our little bundle of joy. We wrapped him up all snug in his little car seat and proudly paraded him down the hospital corridors.
After a painfully slow car journey we finally get home, the key goes in the front door, everything is ready… we were prepared, right? Wrong.
Back in the day, I loved nothing more than changing Squish every 10 minutes. If quality of parenting was measured on frequency of nappy changes then I would be up there with the best. So given that it had been almost 15 minutes since his last change I was on the verge of hyperventilating so straight upstairs we went and popped him down on his shiny new (pointless) fold out changing table. Every change was a family event too… neither of us knew what we were doing and would much rather watch the other struggle than be the person that did it wrong. I’m not afraid to say that I would usually win these debates so Anthony ended up changing him on this occasion. We knew what to expect having been told a zillion times before that cold air on the winkle makes em’ a tinkle and true to the rhyme, he tinkled. Yes, he tinkled alright… IN HIS OWN FACE.
HIS. OWN. FACE. I mean, come on!!!!! We didn’t even know this was possible… why did no one warn us??
For about 20 minutes it felt like every siren in the world was going off… what do I clean first?!? It didn’t help that picking up a wet newborn is like holding a buttered squid so he kept slipping back into the puddle he had made.
Looking back now, I think to myself what a pair of absolute wallys, but I also laugh… a lot. That day was when the real parenting started… non of this messing about dealing with one thing at a time, no no. Squish thought to himself “look at them… changing my bum again, moving me about like they know stuff… this won’t do at all… how about I piss in my own face? THEN you’ll know”.
And so it started…. not so much with a Squish, but with a piss…. in the face.