I’m ten weeks into caring for my daughter.
Rather than a burden, I have to admit I’m enjoying this part … the dirty bits – the dribble, burps, sicks, farts, wees and poos.
Books don’t give much advice or indeed warning of these. I suppose because they tend to cover the serious and important advice rather than the enjoyable, funny and occasionally calamitous parts.
But I see it as a way of bonding with Space Girl, makes me feel human and gives me useful ammo for later teenage arguments or if I need to put off an undesirable partner of hers.
Space Girl boldly goes with such innocence. And they come in such surprising smells, sounds, colours, shapes, volumes, velocities, places and timings. She’s usually indifferent, satisfied or relieved and I’m often impressed.
It’s all the funnier when she’s burps or farts with someone who doesn’t approve of the filthier forms of humour. They want to scold but Space Girl’s youthful innocence prevents that. It’s my reaction that gets the disapproval instead.
It’s changed me. I’m still concerned about cleanliness and sterility but less about planning and neatness. So I can keep an eye on her at home I now use the toilet with the door open and so she can hear my thoughts I say them out loud. Both I need to stop doing when I return to work.
Space Girl has done some remarkable movements but she is trumped by a baby I heard of who while being held before a weighing pooed with such force that it covered the wall except for an unfortunate nurse shaped gap.
Next post November 25, 2013
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