The whole Parentood “deal” has been on my mind recently what with Mum’s demise.
Next door brought home their newborn yesterday. They’ve called her Frankie.
I agreed to let the delivery men in with what looks like the whole nursery of flat pack furniture.
The failed logisitics baffles me. We had a heap of stuff before each of our munchkins turned up.
I thought that what we did was the norm.
He has a habit of bounding up and down the stairs – we can hear this as the houses are terraced.
That’s going to have to stop.
We also heard the argument they had which lasted all evening.
It’s hard not to be judgemental because my memories of our early parenting days have long fogged over.
There are some vivid memories of nappies, projectile vomiting and non stop illogical screaming of course.
But mostly the rose tint of memory has erased all the tedious all nighters and replaced them with smooth professional nappy changing and idyllic curly haired moppets being oh so well behaved.
Becoming a parent is easy and quite often is actually an error.
Being a Mum or Dad however is a lifetime vocation.
Long grinding years which never really end.
It comprises sacrifice, patience, and unconditional love.
Mum’s time as my parent is probably at an end as we take over her care and are making more and more decisions for her.
However, in the great Bank of Care, I think she’s made enough installments over the years and deserves some payback.
Happy to Help.
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Image may be NSFW.Clik here to view.
