2010

A new year. The decade closes and your blogger has found him-self transient. I’ve barely been home in a month. I’ve been holed up at the Girlf’s living out of my man-bag.
The naughties are definitely over. Inch by inch I am leaving my bachelordom behind and easing into family life. A life surrounded by women.
Currently there are three in the house. The screeching is becoming a dull drone in the background. I think I’m experiencing a kind of personal, cerebral evolution as my mind adapts to drown it out.
I say currently as the Girlf has promised me new recruits to her oestrogen army. Daughters.
A little Pandora that will be called Pan.
A silly name for a girl I know but she seems set on it, well at least this week she is. I’m learning quickly that what is set in stone today becomes irrelevant tomorrow.
On the plus side I do get a kick out of her doing my washing. She’s not as reliable as my mother but then that is a hard act to follow. Washing gets done eventually in this house as apposed to promptly which is what I’ve become accustomed too.
I think with a bit of nudging I can get her into a better routine that doesn’t depend on every room in the house filling up with piles of dirty clothes before the sheer necessity of movement demands she washes some of them.
It’s the washing machine I feel sorry for. It sits there all week, idle, and then it’s asked to pull a fifteen hour shift. It can’t be good for the poor thing.
I’m realising that the only person who doesn’t get ill in this house is me. It seems I’m the only one here with immunity to man-flu. All the female occupants seem to be perpetually stricken with it.
I’m currently baby-sitting. The youngest is in bed DSing too ill for school with a phantom ear infection. The Girlf wakes up ill regularly. She moans and bleats that she’s coming down with a ‘virus’ but said ‘virus’ never amounts to much. She’s normally ok within a couple of hours. Either it’s imaginary or an hour of sex is cure for all ills.
The oldest isn’t too bad being fifteen. Life is full of possibilities at that age so being hindered by imaginary ailments would seriously curtail her social life.
She is however the first person in history to experience a period. She holds her stomach, she rocks back and forth, she moans, she whimpers and I go down-stairs to make a cup of coffee praying for sons.
There are reasons to be cheerful though. The blue room is now the gym. The running machine is in the corner and there’s ample room for my weights. I feel like I’ve staked a small claim to part of the house. A little corner of testosterone.
The Girlf kicked up a stink but now everyone’s happy with it. She often comes in to watch me workout. She pretends to be on my lap-top not wanting to appear too obvious of course. It’s cute. I ramp up the treadmill and sweat a little more for her.
Seeing as I’m dad today I should go down-stairs and make the youngest some breakfast. She never wants it but always eats it and I’m more than due my morning coffee it being two o’clock and all. A short blog to start the year.
Christmas was great but it totally messes up your routine. This has been a good yet expensive Christmas. I accidently bought the Girlf an engagement ring.
It is an engagement ring albeit not HER engagement ring. I actually bought her an 18ct white gold pendent with diamond chippings. A lovely thing but unfortunately it made her neck look fat. She exchanged it for a ring that just happens to be an engagement ring and there it sits on her ring finger which spookily is the only finger on either hand that it fits.
She gets congratulated a lot.
The little one is stirring I’m going to get myself up and do stuff. Happy new year.