Edition 83: "Is it hot or wot?"

Good Morning Negative Soundbyters! This post was supposed to be penned last night but suffice to say my brain was struggling to process the heat let alone witty prose. I made for the sack earlier than usual in the hope that a solid night’s rest would leave me feeling refreshed to reel off this edition but the weather had other ideas. Even mitigating measures like opening our sash windows as wide as possible and sleeping practically in the buff (note I used the word “practically”!) didn’t seem to help. There wasn’t even the slightest breeze to take the edge off – nothing, nada, zero, zilch. I tried to lie as still as possible; this meant a degree of concentration and even that resulted in a trickle of perspiration across the brow. You know the way children will often ask “Are we there yet?” - well I found myself asking “Is it time to get up yet?” such was the level of discomfort. I could always have made for the roof as they do in some North African and Mediterranean countries, but trying to get comfortable on a pitched roof without tumbling to the street below might have proved a dream too far!

Rafey is probably the most comfortable member of the family at present. He cruises around the house in his nappy, baby-chest out taking the conditions in his stride (which is a relative term – it’s more a crawl/assisted walk combination) and if he is thirsty he points at his green water bottle or if the boob is closer – has a quick draw from Mrs H! The fan keeps the air circulating in his bedroom (nursery almost sounds too babyish now) so that when he goes to bed, he’s able to kick back and enjoy his “snuggle” without fear of melting. He’s got it good – for now!

I therefore find myself sitting on a bench beside The Thames watching all the early morning joggers getting their exercise in before the day starts; some making running look easy, others making it look distinctly uncomfortable. On passing me some might have wondered what a slightly dishevelled, slightly sweaty bloke with a laptop staring wistfully across the water might have been doing on a park bench at that hour of morning. I can tell them what; making creative writing look very hard – before your minds reach for something dodgy!

Let’s get on with my anecdote for this week, before you run for the exit!

Big Love
Hoddy X

Teeth

We all have them – to varying degrees! And almost like a scratch patch these “bite” sized chunks of enamel come in different shapes, sizes and even colours. (For my international readers this was a gemstone factory in Cape Town that created a space where it discarded all the “offcuts” and as kids we would spend hours in the scratch patch looking for that perfect Tigers Eye.)

As a child I had too many teeth which necessitated endless visits to the dentist and orthodontist to effectively reorganise my mouth. I think they enjoyed the challenge. I didn’t, especially when I got a cricket ball in the face that meant an overhaul of various metal chains, prods and elastic pulleys all intertwined within the confines of my very small mouth!

One upside as a youngster was the Tooth Fairy. Hide your baby teeth and lo-and-behold the next morning a penny would appear in its place (with inflation these days it’s more like a tenner!). Having a child means that The Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny and Father Christmas start making for an expensive triumvirate!

One teeth-related saga I am glad that I have no recollection of is “teething”!

Rafey used to have a very wide, gummy smile. He’s one of those very fortunate people that when he smiles, his face follows. But maybe all babies start that way. He sucked gleefully on pretty much anything he could get his little hands on; this also meant that Mrs H’s boobs were in no mortal danger either!

And then those first few enamel razor blades started randomly appearing and there were fewer smiles and a lot more gnashing of teeth (all three of them!) Even his poo-poo became more violent! Quite why the advent of teeth should lead to multiple explosions on a daily basis, I am not quite sure, but one moment it’s solid, the next…..okay Hoddy that’s quite enough insight into your son’s bowel movements.

We also tried those teething rings; but those didn’t find favour with our sabre-toothed warrior but what did work was biltong - there’s a part-South-African baby for you! He sucks the flavour out and grinds the dried meat against his gums, which seems to ease whatever pain he is in. You ain’t going to find this technique in a Gina Ford publication but when you are deep in the trenches, resorting to unorthodox methods could mean the difference between a contented baby and a baby that is happy to raise all sorts of hell; and from my limited experience that’s a VERY FINE line at times!

With teeth comes brushing. When I first started having a crack at Rafey’s he thought it was a game. No sooner had I enticed him to open his mouth to quickly insert the tooth brush, than he clamped his jaws around it, swallowed the tooth paste and started sucking on the bristles of the brush. He was not best pleased during the times that I did manage to target his three teeth and now when he sees the Baby Oral B approaching his lips remain fused together accompanied by a vigorous shake of the head. “No Papa No!” My hope is that eventually he does see the benefit in dental hygiene; having only a few teeth as an adult has its drawbacks!

He is up to seven now….and counting. I know for certain that Rafey, Mrs H and I will all breathe a large collective sigh of relief when he has a mouth full of gnashers!

OUT :)

Pic of the Week

Stuck!