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daddy_freckle daddy_freckle

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Mike  • Daddy of two girls • Husband • • Blog for parents • • Captioning life as we fumble along • #therealityofparenting • • daddyfreckle1@gmail.com •

http://www.daddyfreckle.com/

Seconds from disaster.

When you have a child with any allergy it is essential that you do not give them or expose them to the allergen. Simple.

When you venture out into the big wide world and decide you fancy abit of an indulge, you then put faith in others to get stuff right. You provide the indulger with the information needed to ensure the allergy suffering indulgee gets exactly what you ordered.
Unfortunately for us we are going through a period where pretty much everytime we eat or drink out the service provider drops a proper clanger. For instance today we thought a @costacoffee would be a nice, and to honour the fully embrace excitement we ordered Flo a soya gingerbread babychino. She had never had one before. She was excited. I was excited but less so after I had to confirm our order 4 times. Not sure how difficult it is swapping cows milk for soya but it really does stump people sometimes.

The little cup came and I past it to Flo. She grabbed it excitedly, turned and went to put it to her lips. Just then I noticed the drink seemed a little to brown looking. As the drink grew closer to her mouth I managed to halt her arm and take it off her. She looked shocked. I informed her i just wanted to see how hot it was and opened the lid. What I was greeted with was a lovely creamy baby hot chocolate or death in a cup as we call it.
Luckily Flo is well up on her allergies and fully understood why she couldn't have that one. So I returned the poisoned chalice to the lady and advised her of the error. She was very apologetic. I was just happy we were getting the right drink and not half way to hospital.

Anyways once the order was right we had a celebratory cheers as we enjoyed our festive beverages.
Flo confirmed it was the best drink ever. Good enough for me. #allergyfun #howtokeepyourkidsalive

Today we welcomed back baking into our humble abode. My gosh how I've missed it.

Many a night I have sat in bed longing for the day we could bake and destroy the kitchen at the same time.
I've missed how we look for a recipe on Google but then @mother_freckle tells us it's not right so she makes it up as she goes along which causes me severe anxiety as I need to follow guidance and instructions. This spontaneous make-it-up as you go along lark isn't good for my blood pressure.

I've mourned for the loss of being unable to watch Florence try not to eat the delightfully sugar coated apples, knowing she has the will power of something that...... really lacks will power (enter better simile here) and will inevitabley scoff them down. She left us today with enough of the fundamental ingredient to be able to describe what we created as a crumble with a hint of apple.

And I've wished for nothing more than to witness Edith' s ability to take even the faintest of a crumb from the bowl leaving it completely clean and ready to be placed back in the cupboard. She is a real water saver.
And on my part. Well I've yearned again for the day where I can be bossed around for a few hours but be rewarded tangibly for my endeavours.

With regards to the table edge, it has been waiting in the garage for nearly 2 years to be glued on. I tried to do it once and it just curled up and annoyed me so I've never tried since. #justcallmedaddyhalfajob #familybakeday #whatfun

Edith and I haven't spent as much time alone together as I would of liked. With Flo we had a whole day together every week from when she turned one. It was daddy and daughter day.

Since this little pudding has come along I've not had that opportunity. Even when I am not in work someone is always around chipping in and pulling my attention in other directions.

However tonight with Flo at her grandparents and @mother_freckle in bed poorly, me and Edith had some quality time together. Was nice to get down to her level and have some fun.

I suggested some structured play before bed. She had other ideas. Was fun especially after when I had to put her room back together.

#daddydaughtertime #dadanddaughter #instadad #dadsofinsta #dadsofinstagram #instadaddy #dadlife #lifeofdad #dadslife #dada #father #therealityofparenting #parentingtheshitoutoflife #fatherofdaughters #daddyofdaughters #daddiesgirls #daddyblogger #familyblogger #pblogger #newmum #newdad #instamum #instamums #instamummy #mumsofinsta #mummyblogger

It appears girls who live together do end up on the same cycle.
And whilst the cycle most often referred to in this regard is one I fear will dominate my life in the foreseeable future, I am in fact taking about a cycle of rejection from my sweet children towards me.

I can presently do nothing that remotely elevates me to a position my girls hold my with in. If I am getting them to sleep or I attend when they wake I get a barrage of screams or a disapproving squirm if I try to pick them up. Whilst Edith is unable to verbalize her indifference towards me, this is not a restriction placed upon Florence. She vocalises the shit about how she feels.

The content of her displeasure is that I, and not her mummy, is in her room. She informs me that she would like me to leave the vicinity of her being and in a clarity that strikes me to the very core, tells me she does not like me. Hurtful to say the least.

And whilst I know it's not completely aimed at me and is probably a result of multiple reasons and that she probably does like me, it's hard hearing.

So tonight to boost my mood I am eating ice cream. Problem is it's peanut butter and I hate peanut butter but for now it will fecking do.
#sometimesyoujustcantwin #whydontmykidslikeme

Today was Florence's nativity. We watched it. It was amazing. She did herself, us and her school proud. Brought a tear to my eye the whole experience.

Following her success I thought it would be nice to get some pictures of us all in the house near our wonderful stallion of a Christmas tree. Inspired by her success, Flo took charge of the camera and became photographer.

She ducked about with the tripod for about 15 minutes before getting pissed off and launching it, and my phone in the process, into the Christmas tree. Got some lovely internal shots of the tree, they look very artistic.

After finally setting the tripod right, she began the painstaking task of taking the pictures. She wanted the dog in them. We tried that but he is a fruit loop and wouldn't sit still so everything turned out blurry, so he was asked to leave the set.

What happened next was one of the most frustrating experiences of my life. What felt like hours past as she tried to get the perfect picture. Unfortunately people, particularly babies, kept moving and the photographer was either to late getting into the picture or positioned herself out of shot. It all got to much in the end and we called it a day without getting one picture that was 'perfect'. But we got this one and it captures the struggle beautifully, although I don't think we will be making a Christmas card out of it.

Last night, this morning and this very eve, my distate of scratching as perpetrated by others, mainly my children, upon their own skin has reached biblical proportions. I simply cannot handle to hear or witness it anymore.

The whole experience irks me to my very core. Its a displeasing noise and you know the chances are high that the little one will leave a mark upon the beautiful complexion. I realise that it's an act aimed at alleviating an irritation, however whilst it may momentarily provide some relief, when conducted in my presence the irritation it alleviates for the scratcher is transferred to myself. I therefore take on this and have to sit there feeling irritated.
As these incidents are often carried out at bedtime or at some point at a repulsive hour, in an atmosphere which is often tense without the scratching, my patience is often paper thin at best. Add this whole skin hack dynamic to the mix and I'm not far off running out the house and hoping on the next plane to Timbuktu.
Probably slightly over the top hatred towards scratching but thought I would park this right here to get some sort of therapeutic relief. It worked. I recommend it. Feel free to leave your frustrations in the comments below. This is a safe space. You and your frustrations are welcome here. #therealityofparenting

Today I did some manly shit.
After months of avoiding doing anything, the daunting fact that Christmas Day is only weeks away hit home and I set about doing jobs.

First of was buying and fitting our new oven. We have gone months with out an oven. There have been zero fish fingers cooked in this house for quite sometime and numerous takeaways have been ordered to fill the void. Seen as we are cooking Christmas dinner an oven is pretty much an essential so we finally took action.

Secondly we replaced the awful lighs in the front and back room with splendid new ones. Due to fear of electrocution I knocked the power off in the whole house. We therefore spent a fair wack of time in the dark with only the light of a battery powered reindeer and our phone torches for light. Guiding your way around a light fixture is hard graft in the dark whilst using a phone torch but I'm a champion so managed it. Only got cramp twice as well as I clung on to the ladder with all my might.

And finally I managed to cover the holes in our ensuite floor that I made months ago when fixing a troublesome leak.

So there you have it a fun filled Sunday here.

Does anyone else get the Christmas kick up the arse to do shit or is it just us in our own little messed up world?

In time she may appreciate my struggle but presently she just toils with my emotions. For if my arms be placed between the bars she now rolls to a place I cannot reach and arises with a look of sheer delight.
Her body language oozes smugness. She has played her hand. I have to stand. No more able to sit beside her bed and pat her gently, I am now forced to drape myself over the barriers of her cot to soothe her.
She hopes I will give in. That the pain smothering my lower back will become to much. That I will dip down and raise her from her cot and take her to the bosom she longs for.
But I shall not be beaten. I arch myself, uncomfortable but determined that today I shall not give in. That I shall stand at a 90° angle for aslong as it takes for sleep to take hold of her.

She cries. I cry. I cry because I realise I've closed the door. It creeks when opened. Don't worry about that now I say, focus upon the job at hand. I rub and pat relentless, seeking to create a relaxing motion.
Her eyes close, then open. Then close. It's a long close. Is she asleep? Ah bastard she has opened them again. We continue on this merry-go-round until finally her eyelids do not part.

Cautiously I straighten. Slowly I love towards the door. My slippers let out a moan. I stop. She remains still. I abandon the slippers. Two more hesitant steps and I am at the door. I begin to part the door from it's frame. A gap appears, only millimetres but enough. I breathe in and slide through.

I am free.

Is anyone else feeling completely and utterly buggered lately?

I am at a stage where a lazy blink could quite literally turn into a nap. I have fallen asleep 4 times this week in Florences bed. I have been there to get her to sleep and instead she has been awake and I've been fast asleep.
When I wake from these little evening naps, I'm not recharged, just more frigging tired. It's not been helped by the fact we've only got decaf coffee in the house. I've gone all week having only had two proper coffees. Had the bloody shakes today from lack of caffeine.

I would like to believe that the weekend offers some respite but knowing these two sleep snatchers we are in for lots of restless nights and early rises.

But on the bright side, it's now advent calander time 😁. Happy 1st of December folks.

Arguments Part Deux:

How would you describe the situation we are in right now?

The wife: broke and annoyed!

Not quite the response is was looking for but good to know where the wife's at. What I was referring to was the fact we are sat together on the couch. She wants to play about on her phone being all sociable and nosing at everyone's stories, where as I am watching the football.
There is a bit of a stand off. Who has to mute their media and who can enjoy sound! I've got the football on, lapping up that stadium noise, whilst every 2 seconds someone else's voice emits out of @mother_freckle phone. It's getting right on my plums.
I've asked if she can pop her headphones. She gave me a look that suggested she was slightly displeased with my suggestion. I advised I would watch the football with my headphones on if i could but I can't as I would have to stand next to the tv and we all know if you watch the Tele to close you get square eyes. Fact.

So my question to you is. Who should back down?

The Sunday of the weekend before the 1st of December is Christmas Tree Day in our house 🌲. It's a tradition @mother_freckle and I began at the first Christmas we spent together as home owners many moons ago and before any kids had been created by us. It is one of the most looked forward to days of the year in the Freckle Kingdom.
We ventured to Delamere Forest to pick our tree and see the big red man himself and his band of merry elves.
Do you know what's good about being advised that the queue for Santa is 30 minutes? Nothing when it takes an hour. Useless bloody sign.
Anyway moan side, we saw the fella, the kids got a little Christmas tree to plant in the garden and then we picked a majestic stallion of a 7ft pine.

Getting it on the roof was a challenge. Getting it home even more so. Precariously resting upon the roof we decided to take the long way home and avoid the motorway. A 40 minute journey turned into a 2 hour journey and despite at times seeming ominous that we would lose it, the tree is now safely up and looking handsome.

So our tree is up. Christmas is here. When do you get the tree and the festive party started?

Florence has been under the weather. It's no secret I've raised it a fair bit.
During this period she has been waking up at roughly 6:30am, which for her is an epic lie in. Whilst I haven't enjoyed this luxury myself, due to an on going commitment I made to a dog 5 years ago which now sees me walking the streets at 5 in the morning, I was hopeful that Saturday would bring me a lie in.
So when Florence came into our room at 5:07am I was somewhat less than a welcoming recipient of her presence, especially when my pleas for her to climb in bed with us and go back to sleep were met with forceful repudiation.

My dissatisfaction with being up at such a time faded shortly after. You see whilst we were getting ready, @mother_freckle quietly beckoned me to spy upon Florence, who she whispered softly to me, was playing beautifully with her toys.

As I peered sneekly around the door I saw Florence take a bag, open it up, and place two Little Live Pets in it and tie it up. Now i don't know if you know what these are but they are basically fluffy robotic dogs and cats that make noises and move and are somewhat life like. So what Florence now had was a bag, tied up, that appeared to contain a cat and a dog in it which she wanted to go out with.

I am not entirely sure I witnessed the adorable play my child was supposed to be engaging or whether the torment of these annoying toys had finally got the better of her.

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