The final first birthday…

29 04 2013

Wifey, JJ and I were invited to the last first birthday of the NCT group.

It marked the end of a chapter.

Our little babies are turning into toddlers.

And we all seem to have pulled through without too many battle scars.

What a year it’s been and I suppose we have the terrible twos to look forward to now.



JJ’s new mode of transport…

26 04 2013

As a philosopher once said:

“They see me rollin
They hatin
Patrolling they tryin to catch me ridin dirty”

JJ can now be seen ‘rollin’ about St Albans.


As you can see, he loves it.

He made his way to the park.

Looking all serious.

Low riding.

Taking in the jealous stares and admiring glances.

Yo, check me out.

You can’t touch me.

Like a boss.

“Oooooooo a slide, yyyyeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh.”



Don’t bite the hand that feeds…

23 04 2013

As some of you may have read in a previous blog, we chose to venture down baby led weaning.

JJ has become a really tidy eater, so we’ve put it down to that.

We no longer put a wipe clean mat under his seat to protect the floor from the bombings it used to get.

The bulk of his food now goes in his mouth.

Good little JJ.

So, the next step.

Dreaded utensils.

We gave it a go the other day.

I gave him my fork to see what would happen.

Only kidding.

JJ was enjoying his food as usual as you can see.

I love food Daddy!

I love food Daddy!

You're going to give me a spoon to eat it?

You’re going to give me a spoon to eat it?

Haha whatever Daddy!

Haha whatever Daddy, don’t be silly!

Having played with spoons in the past, I was expecting him to pick it up like a seasoned master.

We handed over the spoon to him to see what he would do.

After dipping it in the yoghurt a few times, he started to get what needed to be done.

He gave it a good go.

You can guess the result.

You see? YOU SEE? I warned you Daddy.

You see? YOU SEE? I warned you Daddy.

But he loved it and that was the main thing.

A few spoonfuls did indeed meet with their intended destination.

I think I might need to get that wipe clean mat out again though.

Gardening, the next stage…

22 04 2013

In a previous post I revealed how I’d started to turn the quagmire outside my house into the beginnings of a garden.

A place of tranquillity.

A place of rest.

A place to contain JJ.

Next step, building a fence.

Rather than buy some panels, I’m going build it from scratch.

A bespoke fence if you will.

I’m looking forward to it for a few reasons:

  • It’ll test my basic handyman skills to the limit, which are of course, quite limited
  • I’m ordering materials from Wickes and B&Q like a tradesman, grrrrrr
  • I’m buying a new cordless drill to help with the job along with a box of bit and drill pieces (got to love the toys)
  • It involves sawing and chopping and screwing and hammering and general man stuff
  • I get to play with cement and bricks
  • It’s an opportunity to prove to JJ that his Daddy can build and make things without needing a trip to hospital

My in-laws were up at the weekend so I took the opportunity to grab the F-i-L out into the garden for a bit of head scratching, planning and drinking beer.

A quick trip to Wickes to check out the materials needed, advice on a drill and then I was sorted.

Knackered fence on the left.

Knackered fence on the left.

As you can see from the image the fence on the left has seen better days.

So the plan is to completely clear the area, remove the fence and posts which are a bit rotten and continue a gap in a wall where the fence will sit.

I’ve already started by cutting down a hawthorn bush, which took a pound of flesh from me in the process, and you can just make out the stump.

The fence on the right is new and not my handywork – it’s straight, looks neat and was a good job.

So I’ll be out in the garden this weekend demanding cups of tea, slapping Wifey on the arse and sporting a builders butt, while JJ looks on with a look of complete disinterest as his garden continues to take shape.

I’ll keep you posted.

The poo machine…

18 04 2013

Poor JJ.

Poor, poor JJ.

He struggles now and again with his poo.

Part of his routine is to sit and hunch over, looking like a little Buddha with his little fat belly, grab his left foot, grimace and then growl like a dog.

It can be quite funny.

I do feel sorry for him, especially when he goes through a little pain and all I can do is laugh as he looks to me with a pained expression that simply shouts “why?”

Must stop that.

So I’m sure it was with great delight, JJ had his revenge last night.

There I was giving him a bath when he sat down and got into said routine.

I panicked.

All I could say was “no Joshie, don’t poo in the bath,” as if he understood me.

Unfortunately mission control had already started the countdown.

I quickly lifted him up and was going to sit him on the toilet.

It was too late.

The pressure of his squeeze had squashed a little nugget on to the non-slip mat in the bath.

It moved with the water like an angry sea anemone.

But there wasn’t much fortunately.

And it didn’t sting (me).

I cleaned him down then took him up to go to bed.

In the process of drying him, I let him wander free in his room while I got his bed ready.

I turned my back for one second and then all I could hear was “nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn.”


The bathtime incident was the calm before the storm.

I dashed over and picked him up off the carpet just as a little brown head appeared from his bottom.

Quickly turning him onto his tummy I grabbed his towel, pretended I was England’s wicket keeper and waited for this brown trout to leap out in its bid for freedom.

I didn’t have to wait long.

The thing shot out at a rate of knots.

How it managed to fit inside JJ I have no idea.

And don’t talk about girth.

It still brings a tear to my eye.

No wonder he was in a bit of pain.

I would have been proud of that little beastie.

Putting the towel down beside me I cleaned him up again and his mood turned to one of delight.

But the next thing I knew, Wifey was in the room wondering what the fuss was about and without realising she almost stepped in the poo.

I think she was about 1cm away from having something squelch between her toes.

Crisis averted, wild brown trout released back into the wild, we put JJ to bed.

He slept like a log that night.

Next time I’ll give him a wooden spoon to bite down on.

Little wise JJ. Image courtesy of

Little wise JJ. Rub his belly and guess what comes out.Image courtesy of

A garden is reborn…

15 04 2013

I have quite a small garden.

So you would have thought it would be easy to maintain.


Over the years it has seen a wider diversity of life than the Amazon Basin.

As a result it needed a good dose of Napalm to sort it out.

Unfortunately Napalm is banned where I live.

Wifey and I took to the garden to bring it back under control in preparation for some turf.

It was either that or concrete.

I put an order in with a friend who has his own turf business.

(Thanks George, and sorry about the last-minute “Oh God, we’ve got another one” customer experience.)

And then the fun began.

For some reason I thought the turf would be dropped off and brought into the garden.

Wifey was quick to point out that it comes on a pallet.

Stupid me.

Very stupid me.

Totally stupid me.

Wifey was keen to press that home to me.

Especially as we have nowhere to put a pallet.

Fortunately, a neighbour vacated a parking space around the back of the house before the turf arrived.

Garden 3

Lucky me.

Very lucky me.

Very lucky jammy dodger b*stard me.

Especially I was at work and Wifey was at home.

Saturday came and I got to work lugging the rolls of turf through to our garden.

It was all strangely therapeutic.

Piece 1 down. Time for a tea break.

Piece 1 down. Time for a tea break.

I watched my little garden slowly come together.

Like a jigsaw puzzle.

Like a jigsaw puzzle.

Perhaps it was not as straight as first planned.

The fence is wonky, not the turf. Honest.

The fence is wonky, not the turf. Honest.

But I did not mind.

The garden had grass on it and that’s all that mattered.

Back breaking work.

Back breaking work.

Just when I thought I completed it…

Get in there.

Get in there.

…Wifey was quick to point out “you missed a bit.”

That’s what wife’s are for I guess.

Garden. Done.

Garden. Done.

Granted it won’t be featured in the next edition of Gardeners’ World, but I was happy.

It also allowed me to try out my latest magic trick.

Get back in your box Copperfield.

Get back in your box Copperfield. (you might need to click on the image.)


So JJ has a little garden to run around in.

And soon Daddy will be teaching him how to use a Flymo.

Happy days.

A phrase for the day…

12 04 2013

I heard a nice little phrase the other day.

“Regret is worse than embarrassment.”

So true and worth remembering.

It’s something that us Brits I think struggle with at times.

Have a good weekend!