Many things changed when I had my son. I had never believed those naysayers who told me that life as I knew it was over, that my lifestyle would be unrecognisable, that sleep would become a drug I craved. I didn’t believe them because I didn’t want to. Then the boy came along.
For the first few days I watched him constantly. I watched him sleep, eat and I watched him watching me. I didn’t really sleep that much but that was ok, it was all very exciting. Then it started to happen. The house began to turn into a baby house. What had started as the babies room began to spill into the living room and other areas of the house. Kidification had begun. And not just in the house, it was spilling out into other parts of my life. Here’s what happened, in list form of course.
Bathroom stickers: my bathroom is no longer my bathroom. Yes, I can still use it for the essentials that bathrooms are used for, but that is now its secondary function. The first thing to come was the changing table. A lovely storage area with a soft mat on the top, bought from mamas and papas and put together with love and lots of swearing. My bathroom smells of baby poo constantly. It doesn’t matter what device you use to put the nappies in, how many bags you wrap them in, how scented your bin liners are, the smell remains. Then there’s the toys, the babies towel (which looks like a hand towel with a hood) and worst of all the stickers. I know, I know I was the one that put them up. I think the point is this: he doesn’t even notice them! I spent ages getting them in all the right places, spacing them out in just the right way, and for what? Take a look, a job well done I’m sure you’ll agree.
One of those people who talks about his kids: I have now come to the conclusion that it is inevitable. I used to go out with a ‘I won’t bore my friends with stories and pictures’ attitude. The problem with this is that I have very little else to talk about. When out with friends at the weekend (friends with kids) they admitted to showing a 7 minute video of their kid eating breakfast on a night out. These things just happen. My new attitude is this: show them pictures, talk about it non stop, run out of steam, get on with my night and hope my friends will forgive me when they have kids of their own. Risky business but what choice do I have! (it’s even filtering into the blog now).
Understands what he says even if it’s nonsense: this is one of the funnier ones. My son will run up to me, speak a load of rubbish, point at something with a wave of his arm and I will know exactly what he is saying, what he is pointing at and what he wants. How? I don’t really know myself to be honest. It’s a bit like those kids tv presenters with puppets that don’t speak (they usually squeak or quack or something, or like professor Bunsen burner understanding beaker in the muppets) you just know what they want. The bad times come when you don’t understand. My son spent a week or two at dinner pointing and asking for ‘bish’. He would scream the word at the top of his lungs and point. I finally took him over to where he was pointing and it turns out he had no clue what he wanted either. Didn’t stop it happening next time though!
Appearance: kidification happens to your clothes as well as your house. Cuddles are nice but the residue is not so much. It starts small (mainly because he was small) but it soon grows. The point of no return is when you know your shoulder is covered in snot but you go out anyway. The Worst though is when you’re halfway somewhere and you notice. You can either draw attention to it straight away and talk about the boy or just hope everyone is polite enough not to say anything. Unfortunately, of all the wonderful qualities my friends have, politeness is not among them.
Would I change any of it? Of course not.
This blog will be read completely differently by the two groups of society. Those who have kids will relate to it. Those who don’t will treat it as a cautionary tale. Heed the warnings single kidless folk. Stay up late, get drunk, spend Saturdays in bed, go out straight from work and come home at 2am, wear your snot free clothes with pride and above all else; tell yourself it will be different when you have kids!
Enjoy your weekend, however you spend it.