steffanmacmillan
Day 11
DAY ELEVEN This pic was taken yesterday at the Tate Modern art gallery on London's south bank of the River Thames by me.
6.00am Wake up, Sarah brings Carys up for milking, poor Sarah’s natural sleep clock doesn’t adjust as easily as mine, and she’s still on 5am wake-up.
6.30 Today I sneak a strawberry into carys’ Mushabix and she laps it up, doesn’t even notice the slight tangy taste or pink colour cast either.
7.00am I have muesli with strawberries and yoghurt for brekky, with coffee and orange juice – because my belly tells me that I should embellish yesterdays strut-hiking with good nutrition. Perhaps my care for Carys’ health is rubbing off on me too.
8.15am Sarah leaves for work, and now I don’t fear it, now I look forward to the time where I can independently care for Carys in my own style.
8.30am I egest in the upstairs lav and I plonk Carys in the adjacent dry bath tub to play with her yellow duck, so she doesn’t run off and cause harm to herself on cables, drawers, glasses, windows and any number of sharp edges (sometimes I feel we need a child safe Roger Dean house… (www.rogerdean.com/architecture/index.htm) When I arise from the lav Carys rushes over and slam dunks the metal bath plug into the lav, it lands atop the egestion. Now I have a dilemma; do I pull it out with my hands or just flush it off and hope the metal plug doesn’t get washed down the u-bend? I decide to leave it and think about it later.
8.45am Insert Carys into her blue and white tog 5 gro-bag for morning nap, but she just laughs and plays, same as yesterday, this extra sleep in the morning keeps her awake longer. Finally she falls asleep in my arms facing ceiling-ward at 9.25am enjoying the Winnie the Pooh starlight gizmo projected onto the ceiling. Normally she just nuzzles her head into the right edge my chest and the rank stench of my nearby armpit knocks her out, perhaps I should collect it in jars and market it as an organic sleep remedy – and call it ‘Organic Sleep Remedy’.
11.05am Carys wakes from her nap.
11.30 She has lunch which is spinach, sweet potato, pollock and cream cheese mush, cheese sandwich, grapes, rice cakes, banana and a yoghurt. I have a hastily prepared paté sarnie and a cup of splosh.
12.40pm Carys and I go over to Telly Hill Park for the playgroup, make acquaintances with a bloke called Danny, he lives in a squatted shop, and his missis is a costume maker, he bought a prison van on eBay and is converting it to a campervan, his son is 20 months old. Nice to chat to another dad, also make aquaintances with a lady called Emily. Danny boasts of how independent hi sson is because he lets him cry and doesn’t rush to him to pick him up every time he falls. I agree and say how I’m gonna toughen Carys up a bit. Then Carys slips and starts bawling, I rush to her and pick her up, Danny gives me a sideways glance, I clear my throat. I get a cup of coffee at the 2pm drinks, it costs 40p – bargain, a fat woman eats toast. Later I ask Danny ‘should I be interacting more with Carys?’ A woman replies for him ‘nah I just let ‘em get on with it’.
2pm Carys becomes tired and hungry, it rains we depart for home, Carys under the prams rain protector, I get wet in my 100% crimpolene fake tweed jacket. She cries on the way home, I cannot pick her up to cwch her as she’ll get wet, passers-by point at me and chant ‘Evil Dad! Evil Dad! Evil Dad!’, not really, but I feel they may break into chorus at any point.
4pm Sarah arrives home.
5pm I depart for Soho to drop off some film at the photo lab, I meet Leo in the John Snow pub for a couple of pints, some of his mates (Charlie Inman & another fellow whose name I've already forgotten) drop in too and then they go off to a party, I’m not on the guest list, I feel like a little boy who’s not allowed to play football because he’s showed up without shin guards. My mate Yannakis Jones drops by the pub too to say hello, but can’t stay for a drink as he’s off to meet his lady friend.
7.55pm I dash up to Great Marlborough Street to pick up my film then go home, back at 9pm.
9.30pm Bed time
11.30pm Carys wakes and cries for an unknown reason, I comfort her and before I know it, have fallen asleep on the couch in the nursery again, and it’s 3am before I go back to my own bed.
Day 11
DAY ELEVEN This pic was taken yesterday at the Tate Modern art gallery on London's south bank of the River Thames by me.
6.00am Wake up, Sarah brings Carys up for milking, poor Sarah’s natural sleep clock doesn’t adjust as easily as mine, and she’s still on 5am wake-up.
6.30 Today I sneak a strawberry into carys’ Mushabix and she laps it up, doesn’t even notice the slight tangy taste or pink colour cast either.
7.00am I have muesli with strawberries and yoghurt for brekky, with coffee and orange juice – because my belly tells me that I should embellish yesterdays strut-hiking with good nutrition. Perhaps my care for Carys’ health is rubbing off on me too.
8.15am Sarah leaves for work, and now I don’t fear it, now I look forward to the time where I can independently care for Carys in my own style.
8.30am I egest in the upstairs lav and I plonk Carys in the adjacent dry bath tub to play with her yellow duck, so she doesn’t run off and cause harm to herself on cables, drawers, glasses, windows and any number of sharp edges (sometimes I feel we need a child safe Roger Dean house… (www.rogerdean.com/architecture/index.htm) When I arise from the lav Carys rushes over and slam dunks the metal bath plug into the lav, it lands atop the egestion. Now I have a dilemma; do I pull it out with my hands or just flush it off and hope the metal plug doesn’t get washed down the u-bend? I decide to leave it and think about it later.
8.45am Insert Carys into her blue and white tog 5 gro-bag for morning nap, but she just laughs and plays, same as yesterday, this extra sleep in the morning keeps her awake longer. Finally she falls asleep in my arms facing ceiling-ward at 9.25am enjoying the Winnie the Pooh starlight gizmo projected onto the ceiling. Normally she just nuzzles her head into the right edge my chest and the rank stench of my nearby armpit knocks her out, perhaps I should collect it in jars and market it as an organic sleep remedy – and call it ‘Organic Sleep Remedy’.
11.05am Carys wakes from her nap.
11.30 She has lunch which is spinach, sweet potato, pollock and cream cheese mush, cheese sandwich, grapes, rice cakes, banana and a yoghurt. I have a hastily prepared paté sarnie and a cup of splosh.
12.40pm Carys and I go over to Telly Hill Park for the playgroup, make acquaintances with a bloke called Danny, he lives in a squatted shop, and his missis is a costume maker, he bought a prison van on eBay and is converting it to a campervan, his son is 20 months old. Nice to chat to another dad, also make aquaintances with a lady called Emily. Danny boasts of how independent hi sson is because he lets him cry and doesn’t rush to him to pick him up every time he falls. I agree and say how I’m gonna toughen Carys up a bit. Then Carys slips and starts bawling, I rush to her and pick her up, Danny gives me a sideways glance, I clear my throat. I get a cup of coffee at the 2pm drinks, it costs 40p – bargain, a fat woman eats toast. Later I ask Danny ‘should I be interacting more with Carys?’ A woman replies for him ‘nah I just let ‘em get on with it’.
2pm Carys becomes tired and hungry, it rains we depart for home, Carys under the prams rain protector, I get wet in my 100% crimpolene fake tweed jacket. She cries on the way home, I cannot pick her up to cwch her as she’ll get wet, passers-by point at me and chant ‘Evil Dad! Evil Dad! Evil Dad!’, not really, but I feel they may break into chorus at any point.
4pm Sarah arrives home.
5pm I depart for Soho to drop off some film at the photo lab, I meet Leo in the John Snow pub for a couple of pints, some of his mates (Charlie Inman & another fellow whose name I've already forgotten) drop in too and then they go off to a party, I’m not on the guest list, I feel like a little boy who’s not allowed to play football because he’s showed up without shin guards. My mate Yannakis Jones drops by the pub too to say hello, but can’t stay for a drink as he’s off to meet his lady friend.
7.55pm I dash up to Great Marlborough Street to pick up my film then go home, back at 9pm.
9.30pm Bed time
11.30pm Carys wakes and cries for an unknown reason, I comfort her and before I know it, have fallen asleep on the couch in the nursery again, and it’s 3am before I go back to my own bed.