So today little Rupert/Super Rupes/Rupee/Bumps/Roop Dogg turned five months old. I know, time has gone so quickly.
It seemed like only yesterday that he made his dramatic, if not lengthy, arrival into the world after a 54-hour labour.
In that time Jess and I have learned so much so I thought I would write some of the key things down. Please note this is definitely not everything, but is certainly some of the funnier or more poignant ones.
How to change a nappy properly: When our little man first arrived we had no idea how to change a nappy. I remember J and I looking at each other with a mix of fear and confusion before we finally gave up and summoned the ever-patient midwives. They assured us they’d heard this hundreds of times and watched as we fumbled are way through that first one. Now, after poonamis, fountain wees and the like, we’re much more like seasoned professionals – I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not
Those blue eyes mean he gets away with anything: And he will continue to get away with anything as well. Already he does something he shouldn’t have and looks at you with the innocence of those beautiful baby blues and you can’t be mad at him. I know in the years to come he’s going to have us wrapped round his little finger.
No matter how tired etc. you are, when he smiles nothing matters: I’ve had rough days at work, arguments with Jess and no matter what, if I walk in and he smiles at me then nothing else matters. It’s the most beautiful sight and one I never get tired of (Pardon the pun!)
Feeding in public isn’t as scary as once thought. Just days after bringing him home from the safety and security of hospital we took Rupert back to Bedford to register his name. With nowhere to go and a hungry boy, J fed him for the first time in public. She was nervous but she smashed it and I was, and continue to be, so proud each and every time she does it. For those mums reading this who are breastfeeding – do it wherever you want, it’s the most natural thing in the world. For those who don’t like that, jump up your own arses and then refer to the above line – it’s natural, they’re boobs, and our children are feeding, get over it.
You think your parents love for YOU is strong: It is, and will always be, but when you have a child you see your parents love from the other side. Each of Ru’s grandparents are besotted with him and it’s so clear to see. It’s another one of those things that no matter how many times you see it, it doesn’t get old.
It’s tiring: For Mums, they face the unenviable task of being ‘on-call’ 24 hours a day. It’s tiring and despite getting up countless times in the night, Jess is still a hero and so loving in the day. But, and somewhat controversially, Dads get tired too. I wake up a lot when Jess does and I try to help where I can but just that can take its toll. I’m not saying it’s a competition because it’s like taking a pencil to a knife fight, I’m just saying that Daddies get tired as well.
They take over every aspect of your life and all plans are made around them: Even the simplest tasks, such as having a shower, need to be planned, so try to imagine going down to visit family for a weekend. Not only do you have to plan what he’ll wear, but what the weather will be like, how many outfits he’ll go through, if you’ve packed all of the essentials – and that’s just for a trip to the shops.
Eating on your own in peace is taken for granted: Since Rupee’s arrival we’ve been out for dinner a handful of times and each time we’ve made the same comment; “Wow, isn’t this lovely.” Now that’s not to say being without him is lovely, but more that one of us doesn’t have to wolf down their dinner as he’s just started crying again.
You’re proud when they poo, wee and burp: Of all the things I’m proud of him for these are definitely the weirdest. Trust me, if your little one hasn’t pooed for two days and then they finally do, you ignore the mess and focus on the pride you feel. It’s odd but it’s true.
It really is the best job in the world: The pay is shit, the hours are long and the boss can’t even talk, but my word, with every single piece of cliché I can muster – being a Daddy really is the best ‘job’ I have ever had.