Babbling brook by my bed lays down new parenthood challenge
ABABBLING brook sound greeted me as I awoke Monday morning. A pleasant sound it was. Soothing almost. In my sleep-drunk stupor I imagined it was rain falling from the drain pipe outside my window. I squinted in the direction of said window and saw it was sunny outside.
A dread feeling crept over me like a black Autumn night-sky cloud as I realised that the sound was urine pouring from my son all over the newspaper pages and around my new shoes in a torrent of Biblical proportions.
By the time I sprang to life, the spring had run dry and a yellow sea had made papier mache of my Sunday newspaper.
Needless to say potty training is something which can drive you into a whole new dimension of mad. It isn’t easy for the toddler in the house either.
A colleague once told me with pursed proud lips that her daughter got it overnight, fair play, but the course of potty training seldom runs so smoothly. More often than not it runs down a soft leg onto the ground or into the underwear and pants.
My son started well. The Good Woman and I breathed collective sighs of relief when he trotted up to us and declared he had to go wee wee. After a few days things went backwards and we’ve been through the mill and through a factory load of underpants ever since. To see the frustration and upset on his little face when he has succumbed to an accident is heart rending. We’ve been encouraging him with incentives and the accidents are getting less frequent. Here’s hoping he gets the hang of it soon.
His face took on an altogether different hue and aspect as wide eyed he took in a spectacular fireworks display at Tramore in County Waterford on Saturday night. Throwing my luck to the wind and gunmetal grey skies, I took my chances and brought the kids to the seaside town of amusement and ice cream despite weather warnings of different colours.
A patch of blue sky greeted us as we arrived and the weather held off, enabling The Whirlwind Princess to enjoy 40 ft high trampolining and both to enjoy some rides and treats.
The timeless allure of the amusements and the joy in their faces at the fireworks made for a fantastic night in an otherwise forgettable weekend. I’m convinced at this stage that RTE weatherpeople are directed by a mental health group to give sunny forecasts as the sun promised for many a 2016’s summer’s day has invariably failed to materialise. Plenty of puddle for kids to splash around in have, though, so maybe I should be more grateful for small mercies.
Speaking of flooding it was amusing to read about how a flood has destroyed the home of a Christian lobbyist who preached that God sends natural disasters to punish gays.
President of the controversial Christian group Family Research Council, Tony Perkins, described a deluge of ‘near biblical proportions’ hitting his Louisiana home earlier this month, having previously made the assertion. During a broadcast on the group’s radio station, he told how he and his family had fled in a canoe. ‘This is a flood, I would have to say, of near biblical proportions.’
Mr Perkins has a long and well-documented history of disparaging gay people. He once outrageously claimed there was an ‘overlap’ between paedophilia and homosexuality.