Didsburydad's Blog

From the not so mean streets of M20, blog about being a dad, Didsbury and dealing with parental confusion

Archive for the tag “Madchester”

New Beginnings, Old Goodbyes and The Northern Quarter

It’s been a time for new starts and changes in Didsbury Dad Towers. The end of the football season always marks that period when Didsbury Brother phones me and we wonder how we will get through the 8/9 weekends coming up with no constant football interference to fill the space and act as punctuation.
  

Headlining this week is Dora the Explorer…

The Mighty Headed Boy and Pearly Princess are saying goodbye to nappies. It’s been a week measured in gaps between potty visits and frequent visits to Co-Op for more kitchen towel. Like all these rites of passage, the reality positively outwits the dread and it’s been constant but weirdly satisfying. The realisation that intent, action and vocalisation have a fluid running order you need to shape carefully is an uplifting thought.
  
The new all you can eat buffet. These are the new currency.

Didsbury Wife has been a blur of action this week – without realising it, the boddlers have been changed forever with only stickers and Cadbury Chocolate Buttons as props and the floor has been cleaned so often we also realised we could never be bothered being OCD. 

  
Oasis at Maine Road, The Roses at The Hacienda, Catatonia at The Roadhouse, Chris Blackwood in Didsbury Park.

Didsbury Son waved goodbye to being sized by age to width/height. We went to town to cruise the Northern Quarter for clothes and art. He is a big fan of Manga so we visited Forbidden Planet. If you ever want to feel better about yourself, understand your peccadillos are fine go here. Watching hipsters and geeks salivate over Jabba the Hut and argue about fonts made me realise that I’m okay. I peaked at Carrie Fisher in the 2nd Star Wars several decades ago. I was looking for the sign behind the till that reads “you don’t have to speak Klingon to work here but it helps.”
I love mooching about the Northern Quarter. In pre Didsbury Dad says it was my domain. I worked and played here for a decade and enjoyed being part of the city’s fabric as we moved from Madchester to post-bomb tourist attraction and cultural hub. As the new Home theatre/gallery/cinema sits in the shadow of the Hacienda’s descendants so this weekend a venue I shaped a generation ago says goodbye and another piece of my personal history becomes memory and memorabilia. 
Measuring the development of my family in their milestones and this latest part of my life just adds another layer of experience – one that moves the day from the nighttime economy and being out to being home more with people for whom each day is a new world and a big idea is building a space ship out of cushions. 

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Parenthood – Six New Medical Conditions

Being a Didsbury Dad is a wonderful life. Not even the demise of La Tasca, the pavement parking that makes pram pushing painful or the scary designs masquerading as art in the “new” diminished Withington Hospital can dull the glow.

As Didsbury Son edges inconsistently towards teenagedom, his qualities only occasionally dulled by extreme vagueness and the odd sulk, I look at my two new Didsbury Babes with joy, apprehension and a slightly locked shoulder.

It’s not the thought of teething, chicken pox or stranger danger that keeps me awake at night. What allows me to talk to the moon at 4am is the fear that I am going to have to sit through Junior School concerts again. At one of Didsbury Son’s schools it was so bad I booed a Year 3 “Grensleeves”. All dads know that there is only so much feigning you can do when a potential free evening is savaged by a recorder played ingloriously by unknowing fingers and partially cleaned milk teeth.

I digress – this is my 100th Blog so I am having a celebration ramble.

It’s not even the awful school concerts. It’s the low-level parental pain that is more daunting than the realisation I had at a baby clinic recently. In the years when I was larging Madchester and feeling invincible, my twins contemporaries’ dads were in nappies themselves. I talk about Wagon Wheels and Choppers, they get teary eyed over a Game Boy.

In addition, there is the realisation that every hair that grows on these tiny Churchillian bonces takes them a little further away from new babydom.

One sad day all this will be covered in hair

One sad day all this will be covered in hair

So 6 things of which to be wary;
1. The Domino Effect – Baby Boy is a whopper. A milk guzzling, eyelash fluttering, full-face smiling whopper. Leaning over to pick him up without bending properly and then lifting back up nearly 20 pounds of milk and muscle does things to a spine that’s crawled past 39 … Bad things. That pop at night is the morning’s Sciatica, the afternoon’s tingling and the following night’s Ibuprofen.

2. (SOS) Shiny Object Syndrome: I promised never to moan about sleep deprivation. Even when it’s counted in minutes; sleep interrupted by a smiley/crying/wet/hungry baby always has a redeeming feature. It’s downside is that my attention span is down to Didsbury Son’s level. Anything longer then eight minutes is a genuine struggle that needs something bright or noisy shaking to keep my eyes open.
Didsbury Wife pointed out to me that it takes about eight minutes for light to get to us from The Sun. I pointed out it takes approximately eight minutes to walk the pram once around Didsbury Park and then I nodded off.

3. Designer Milk- I never realised that babies projected milk with no warning and can reach a shoulder from 10 feet. Every single piece of clothing that I have has been tie-dyed with Aptamil.

The doctor seemed un-moved when I explained my predicament

The doctor seemed un-moved when I explained my predicament

4. Milk Neck- bibs are fine but there is always a missed trickle that comes to give you a sticky kiss when you pick up a baby to burp them.

5. Golfer’s Elbow – honestly, I have golfer’s elbow and a cortisone injection habit.  Apparently it is widespread. When I sheepishly admitted that it was painful, I was deluged by empathetic nods from fellow sufferers and  it opened a secret world to parental pain that again, no one tells you about when you’re expecting.

6. BootPov – I had wondered why Boots the Chemist had so many branches. Now I know. Every over parent of children under the age of… 30 knows that on birth you give Boots your blood group, PIN number and roughly 90% of your earnings and 50% of your overdraft. I now have enough Advantage points to buy almost a day’s worth of nappies.

These are only exacerbated by Pramrage, CHOCS (central heating overload causing sinusitis) and Shrunken World – even I realise that my daily happiness and schedule tightened by feeds and changes makes my conversation as dull as the lighting in the nursery at 3am and as shallow as the milk my baby boy leaves in a bottle after a feed.

Twins do not always grow at the same rate

Twins do not always grow at the same rate

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