Thursday, 26 March 2009
You might have noticed that, when someone says something on this blog, they don't do something as prosaic as simply 'comment'. Oh no. They change a nappy. And why not? I can tell you that it's more than a little appropriate to life with Charlie, all the more so lately. When the numbers start to rise in blog-land I get quite excited; I like reading people's comments. In fact, it's the best part about it. One day I'm going to do a 'best of...' post made up of classic comments; they're better than this drivel. And they're odour-free and (almost always) clean. Not the bulging, stinking, retch-inducing, never-ending things I've had to cope with recently. Honestly, I'm convinced that more comes out than goes in. Without going into unnecessary detail, for the last week or so we've had something of a nappy marathon. After Comic-Relief I even started to suspect that Charlie might have handed out some sponsor-forms. But doing something messy (and smelly) for money wouldn't have made good television, though my attempts to cope have been amusing. We mentally examined every meal he'd eaten. There was nothing we could 'finger' (if you'll pardon the expression). The only thing out of the ordinary lately has been Charlie's recent MMR. The nurse did say that Charlie might be grouchy, and to watch for symptoms ten days later. But she didn't mention anything about exploding nappies or industrial-size bowel movements. At least Charlie doesn't seem to have been worried by it. Puzzled, maybe, at a couple of extra baths and frustrated sometimes by his frequent outfit changes. But otherwise OK. And we seem at last to have 'passed' the monumental motion stage. This week everything is back to normal. I don't have to scoop him off his feet the moment that his face goes red; I no longer have to open all the windows in his bedroom for at least an hour; I can face my food again. If it was the jabs then I'm just grateful that there won't be any more now for a year or two. By which time I must try to have a job. A job that doesn't involve a conveyor-belt of dirty nappies.