When I last toted Boo about in her car seat she weighed slightly more than an empty crisp bag. Evidently, that was a looooooong time ago. With my blond hair and (not so) rippling muscles I fought my striking resemblance to Hulk Hogan in 1993's (not so) smash comedy Mr Nanny, to heave a changing bag and the 46st apple of my eye to her massage class.
Breezing in to the waiting area in my usually harassed, disorganised, and today rain saturated state, I noted, that due to our usual lateness there were no adult chairs left for my lardy backside. Pulling up a toddler chair, I sat looking massive and utterly ridiculous, knees under chin like some sort of irritated gnome who's misplaced his fishing rod.. Not wanting to admit what an A grade loser I am, having made this 'wrong chair choice' error, I stuck with my mistake for the cursory period of time this type of social situation requires. I gave off my usual unapproachable vibe, then after feeling a safe amount of time had elapsed, I went from Lilliput chair to floor.
The instructor arrived and herded us all into the massage room where we dumped our gear and assumed our places at a mat. Stripping Betty down to her nappy, I noticed a familiar brown hue lurking inside. Excellent. I scanned the circle searching for another Mum who had been met with a similarly smelly welcome. Nope. Just me. Making ourselves as popular as ever, I interrupting the introductions (I'm never capable of remembering them anyway) to enquire about baby change facilities. After sluicing down my daughter, I returned to the fray. While getting back down to the mat I realised I had chosen to wear the jeans that expose an explicit expanse of my builders bum. At least we avoided introducing ourselves - we'll just be known as "The Gross-ingtons ". What's new.
After a short period of oiling and stroking and patting and singing/warbling, we moved from baby's legs to tummy. Total removal, a little slackening or complete leaving on of nappies was discussed. I opted down the middle, going for the 'undoing but leaving the nappy placed around the 'area''. See, not a total idiot. I have played before.
Sadly, this having played before was insufficient knowledge of how this situation would pan out. Yes, the nappy was in the vicinity, but it was not strapped to her. I had not made any allowance for the secret pressure washer Boo must have nestled in her bladder, a pressure washer that can, it turns out, fire off a jet of urea some powerful it can blast open the front of a loose nappy and liberally soak the knees of my jeans, the sleeves of my top and most importantly, the Children's Centre towel. This isn't at all embarrassing by the way. Discreetly balling up the urine sodden towel, I edged it up our mat until I was able to wipe down all offended areas (though I don't think the neighbouring mother took to kindly to me giving her splashed glasses the old once over). I then quietly place a muslin cloth over the mat and tried to get on with the session.
The instructor arrived and herded us all into the massage room where we dumped our gear and assumed our places at a mat. Stripping Betty down to her nappy, I noticed a familiar brown hue lurking inside. Excellent. I scanned the circle searching for another Mum who had been met with a similarly smelly welcome. Nope. Just me. Making ourselves as popular as ever, I interrupting the introductions (I'm never capable of remembering them anyway) to enquire about baby change facilities. After sluicing down my daughter, I returned to the fray. While getting back down to the mat I realised I had chosen to wear the jeans that expose an explicit expanse of my builders bum. At least we avoided introducing ourselves - we'll just be known as "The Gross-ingtons ". What's new.
After a short period of oiling and stroking and patting and singing/warbling, we moved from baby's legs to tummy. Total removal, a little slackening or complete leaving on of nappies was discussed. I opted down the middle, going for the 'undoing but leaving the nappy placed around the 'area''. See, not a total idiot. I have played before.
Sadly, this having played before was insufficient knowledge of how this situation would pan out. Yes, the nappy was in the vicinity, but it was not strapped to her. I had not made any allowance for the secret pressure washer Boo must have nestled in her bladder, a pressure washer that can, it turns out, fire off a jet of urea some powerful it can blast open the front of a loose nappy and liberally soak the knees of my jeans, the sleeves of my top and most importantly, the Children's Centre towel. This isn't at all embarrassing by the way. Discreetly balling up the urine sodden towel, I edged it up our mat until I was able to wipe down all offended areas (though I don't think the neighbouring mother took to kindly to me giving her splashed glasses the old once over). I then quietly place a muslin cloth over the mat and tried to get on with the session.
 |
| Guess where we sat. |
We couldn't just get on with the session though, could we? Of course we bloody couldn't! You have read this before, right?
Betty next decides to start 'hiding' in the muslin cloth when I am attempting to massage her. Every time I remove the cloth from her face, she shrieks out excitedly, then goes back to grabbing handfuls of it and hiding again. Initially, various other Mums threw me a polite 'aww, that's cute' glance. Boo, delighted with the growing reaction to her disruption, continued to decimate the relaxing, meditative environment the instructor had spend twenty minutes creating, and the glances became markedly less tolerant. When BB began to roll onto her sides and laugh screechingly down the ears of the neighbouring babies, and then started to grab out at them to encourage them to respond, I felt was time for us to tidy away our things. She felt it was time to snatch hold of someone else's dummy and lob it across the room.
Relaxation? Well, that's that well and truly wrecked for everyone that attended. Good night, God bless.
Betty next decides to start 'hiding' in the muslin cloth when I am attempting to massage her. Every time I remove the cloth from her face, she shrieks out excitedly, then goes back to grabbing handfuls of it and hiding again. Initially, various other Mums threw me a polite 'aww, that's cute' glance. Boo, delighted with the growing reaction to her disruption, continued to decimate the relaxing, meditative environment the instructor had spend twenty minutes creating, and the glances became markedly less tolerant. When BB began to roll onto her sides and laugh screechingly down the ears of the neighbouring babies, and then started to grab out at them to encourage them to respond, I felt was time for us to tidy away our things. She felt it was time to snatch hold of someone else's dummy and lob it across the room.
Relaxation? Well, that's that well and truly wrecked for everyone that attended. Good night, God bless.
Crying, literally crying with laughter!
ReplyDeleteMe too. Though not with laughter... x
DeleteOh my gosh - that's hilarious! Can't stop giggling at work reading this!
ReplyDeleteI'm glad my total, utter, complete embarrassment amuses you. Thanks for taking the time to say hello x
DeleteOh gosh poor you! Although had to have a giggle what a little tinker! x
ReplyDeleteUm...tinker wasn't the word that initially sprang to mind... x
DeleteWell I'd focus on the positives... what great throwing skills for one so young, I am sure she is way ahead of many other babies on that score!! Go Betty!!!
ReplyDeleteHmm...positives...what are they again?
DeleteThanks so much for stopping by xx