Lucky I was a never diary writer as there would be far too many blank pages to make it worthwhile for anyone to try and piece together my life. If anyone did undertake such a feat, it would be sections of toddler blogs, heavy metal videos and dwarf porn – but I imagine that’s most of us.
The subheading on this blog (for those playing along at home), is part of the original blog I was writing, as I figured I’d have it out well before this one, combined with the new blog you’re currently reading. Let me s’plain.
Ya see – I finished the job in Queensland a few weeks ago and I am now back in Melbourne. This is great as I’ve managed to connect with my youngest daughter whom I didn’t really know for the first nine weeks of her life. We have shared smiles and I’ve learned what calms her down when she gets annoyed. The wife and kids (I can say that now), came up to the Gold Coast for a week after the baby had its first round of vaccinations. We rented an apartment in Q1 (the tallest residential building in Australia) for a week. We were on the 36th floor and the view was amazing. Bath with a view. Everywhere there was a view. We hired a car and had a family holiday.
I’m so excited. I got my family with me, we’re going to have a relaxing holiday. Go places and smile and be like those commercials where everyone is happy at all that shit. After the first day – I vowed I wasn’t travelling with my children again until they were at least 40 and could control their inner voices. I once thought the whole “are we there yet?” thing was a Hollywood movie trope. It isn’t. The toddler was saying it endlessly as Da ground his teeth to nubs. The number of times we had to pull over for a bush wee/poo/nappy change/boob feed and general fuckery the toddler dreamt up – made me convinced, traveling with ones children only works once they’re adults.
But back to the time before all of that when I was filled hope and dreams —
The wife warned me that the toddler now had an American accent with certain words. This freaked me out. I had seen the toddler on FaceTime, but it rarely spoke to me as it was usually pissed-off at me for leaving. It was far more interested in saying goodnight to Uncle Andy, Aunty Fi or wanting to know where Uncle Steve was; than speak to the bad Da who had once again left it. I never picked up on the accent. but, when I met them at the airport and got to talk to the toddler – there it was. It had listened to “Let it Go” from Frozen so many times it had adopted the accent in those particular words.
At the airport, the toddler was out of its tiny mind to see me. It was wonderful to have them all together again and have the toddler tell me how much it had missed me (it stills me now). For the first week we were together, the toddler wouldn’t let me out of its sight. The wife stepped off the plane a little dishevelled. Like afternoon sex in a small plane cubicle. I learned the story to this particular look as we walked to the car. Their flight was 40 minutes delayed as I knew, because I was sitting at the airport waiting for them. They were on the tarmac in Melbourne when the delay was relayed to everyone.
“There’s a forty minute delay.” Then the baby shits itself. Full poonami. These things involve a costume change and wiping the baby from the ears down with a large sponge
“I need to change my daughter.”
“You can’t leave your seat ma’am.”
“I really need to deal with this.”
“You can’t leave your seat.”
Then you know what happens? The baby power-chucks all over the wife. Baby vomit soaks all the way down to her underwear.
The wife had her hair done for the occasion of seeing me after so long. I didn’t notice and I hate myself for it, but the vomit and the poo and the stress kind of covered-up that fact in all fairness to me.
Anyway – we drive into the Gold Coast and find Q1. I pull into the waiting area and the wife goes in to get the room key and carpark pass et-al when – the baby shits itself again and the toddler decides it also needs a crap.
“What is this hell?” I scream inside my head.
“Da. I need a poo. I really need a poo.”
The toddler is turtling, I’m parked in a five minute zone and the baby has literally exploded. The wife is not only nowhere within eyeshot or screaming distance, but she’s left her phone in the car.
This was the beginning of the fuckening.
I try to convince the toddler to have a shit in the raised garden bed but it will have none of it. It wants to be taken to a toilet and a girls toilet because she’s been in the boys loo with da before and it traumatised her. I have no idea where a toilet is to begin with and the baby is now pissed-off and screaming. The wife is sipping a champagne cocktail by the pool under a palm-leaf being waved by a better-looking fella than me – I imagine – as she’s taking so long.
The wife finally emerges and I throw her the toddler with the instructions – “it’s turtling!” and I do the nappy change.
I’ll never get used to babies. They’re compact units and fire liquid shit under enormous pressure. How in the blue hell can something shit on the back of its own head? And it isn’t just once, it’s a regular occurrence. The explosion is audible and the next thing I know, I’m wiping poo off its nipples as I do a total outfit change. I once saw a stripper fire a banana across a bar – but my sense of awe in what I once thought impossible with the human body has been updated since having children.
We finally got to the room and the wife left me with the children as she went to have a shower. I imagined I’d be pouring us a drink and checking out the view as we relaxed. But then again – I’m a moron. I spent the time chasing the toddler around telling it to stop making a mess as it decided the couch cushions would look better in the bedroom on the floor. It looked at me with an expression that said “you don’t get to just arrive back in my life and tell me what to do.” I turned its energy into something positive instead . hah, ya see what I did there? I turned it to my advantage and enlisted the toddler’s help in pushing the two single beds together in the second bedroom. We rigged a system where the room chairs were used to stop the toddler from falling out of bed as it was determined it would be sleeping with me on the holiday. That was my one victory for the week.
The toddler sleeping next to me lasted one night only. The rest of the holiday the toddler slept in bed with the wife and baby leaving Da alone in the spare room. My birthday came around and Da was in the single bed by myself in the second room. This was the way it remained – awwwwwwwww.
So – anyway.
I had promised the wife for at least seven years I’d take her to Queensland so she could see the whales. This was something that meant a lot to her and a promise I’d made in the days when I was still trying to impress her. To see the migrating whales was a big deal to her. I don’t get it personally – but I love her and want to make her happy.
We went to Byron Bay as neither of us had been there before. As we crawled through a huge traffic jam into town, I imagined how awesome this place would be if the angel of death was to pay a surprise visit to every tourist motel within ten miles.
Anyway, we drive up to the lighthouse and I pay a man eight dollars to park the car – but I may have to wait until midnight to get a spot. As luck would have it, Azrael had heard my prayer and a space suddenly appeared. We went for a walk and saw dolphins riding the waves and low and behold!!! Whales!!!! Whales off the starboard bow! I called out “whales!” and other tourists took up the call and the pointing. I was excited for a reason I don’t know, maybe because I’d spotted whales and felt a little chuffed about it. I looked around for the wife who was stuck on a bench with a baby attached to her, sucking away. The wife couldn’t see the whales and the baby was hungry. My tits don’t produce milk so all I could do was shrug and point and call out “whales” with the other excited apes as I looked at her dejected face.
Finally the baby let the nipple drop from its lip and the wife was once again free. We looked out to sea when she spotted it – a whale, but not just one whale – two whales!. She had a religious moment and I was blessed as hell to be there for it. The joy was infectious.
The following day we all tumbled onto a boat for a whale watching tour and went out to sea to see what we could see-see-see. We saw some whales far away and I was hoping like hell we’d see more. not for me, but for the wife and toddler. There would be a grey hump emerge at a distance and everyone would lose their shit and then it was over. I was thinking to myself, this couldn’t be it, as all the advertising photographs where of magnificent beasts leaping majestically out of the water giving a thumbs up and a wink. The toddler was board and I was packing it that there would be a toddler incident on the boat as i could read in its eyes it was wanting to climb the rails. Then after an age, a whale threw itself out of the water before us. It was was either being cheeky or showing off to impress a girl. It was great to watch. Everyone crowded at the front of the boat, the wife beside me and me with the toddler standing up on the front so it could see. the Toddler was also excited and cheered every time the beastie leapt into the air. I was standing beside the photographer and he was showing me the photographs he was getting between leaps. They were stunning.
We spent another few days knocking about the Gold Coast and then it was time to leave. After spending the morning cleaning up all toddler evidence – we headed down to the car.
I pulled the car out of the underground parking and into the 5 minute spot out front so the wife can settle the bill. Within 3 seconds of the wife leaving the car the toddler says, “I need a widdle” and the baby shat itself. A complete nappy fill. Argh!
The toddler refused to do a bush piss and refused to listen to me when I said I couldn’t leave the baby to find a toilet for it. So, the holiday ended as it began.
The wife came back and was thrown the toddler, which meant having to get the swipe card back, while I rolled up the sleeves and attended to the nappy. I was chuffed however to see that investing in the larger nappies was now paying off with the payloads going into them. I might just get away without a full costume change… I lift the legs and see the carnage. “For the love of all…”
We get on the plane – I’m in the exit row due my long legs and the wife is stuck at the back of the plane with the kids. I did try to get them close so I could be of use. Then five minutes into the flight the flight hostess arrives by my seat. I’m having a great time with the two lads in the row with me. “Excuse me sir, your help is required with the children.”
I stand and look behind me, wondering what fuckery has happened now – and I see the cabbage head of the toddler looking over the seats at me. It ducks when it sees me and I make my down the aisle and into the unknown.
TO BE CONTINUED: