Wednesday, July 15, 2009

The Portacot Incident

For those of you thinking of asking, when am I going to be in the family way? At this time in my life I find myself too-ing and fro-ing from 'bring it on' to 'fuck it off'. Usually when I'm having a moment of cluckiness, imagining what life would be like with a cute baby around, the universe magically reminds why I'm not ready. For example: I'm holding a baby and start picturing myself holding my own baby... then 'achoo', the baby sneezes and there's a big bit of green snot strewn from the nostril to the lip (if there's one thing I can't handle - I can't even talk about - it's snot!! Snot is to me what Kryptonite is to Superman)

So at this very moment, if you were to ask, I could give you a big, fat, honest, not anytime soon!

Right now for instance. I was in the spare room making up the bed for Mum and Dad's impending visit. The portacot is still set up from having friends and family with youngsters staying. So, I make the bed and decide to dismantle the cot because it takes up too much room.

I take the change table off, pull the baby mobile down and unstrap the mattress. I then open the flap down the bottom, push the button and pull the mechanism that is supposed to close it up - like an umbrella. Well, fuck me! I'm fucked if I can get the fucking thing to close!I grab the instructions out of the cupboard and notice it says 'push button on side rails to close'... Okay, so I do that. Still, it won't close! So, I glance back and notice 'release button on mechanism needs to be depressed'... okay, I press the button. Yet again, no go! I push the side buttons again, the mechanism button pops out... I push the mechanism button again, the side buttons pull out. Suddenly I feel like I'm in some kind of fucked up sitcom where the Dad can't close the portcot and has his legs and arms flailing around, yelling TV friendly obscenities at the portacot... then the Mum comes and closes it up in one swift, graceful movement and says 'what was so hard about that?' (cue audience laugh).

My versions, however, was not PG rated... It went a little something like this, and you'll have to add grunting, teeth gritting and groaning to get the full effect:

"For fucks sake! Fucking go down you bastard! Fuuuuuuuuck! You motherfucka! I AM pushing the fucking button! How the fuck am I supposed to push the button and the other button and pull at the same fucking time you fucking arsehole?? ARGH! Fuck this!!!"

Then I punch the cot, throw it to the ground, say 'Fuck you motherfucka' and storm out of the room to take a breather. I need to calm down big time... So I sit here and type and breathe.

Now, I'm calm enough to go back and give it another go. I need to be in the right head space to attack this scenario. Ding! Ding! I'm off for round two!Okay... so I got it closed this time round. Figured what I was doing wrong and calmly and rationally solved the problem... not an issue!

Now just to pack it all in the bag.... Hopefully it's not like packing a tent up cause I'm shit at that too! God! It's so portable when it's in the bag! This thing isn't so bad, hell, it's even a bit cute. And now, all of a sudden, we're back to phase one and I find myself pondering once more, 'Maybe I'd like be a Mum'... well, one day.

1 comment:

Rachies Soap Box said...

I had a fight with my portacot. I had it for my little boy Ardie when he broke his back and he had to “rest” which is not really a word that can be applied to a Jack Russell so he spent more than six months in it, poor little bugger. But when I went to fold it up there was no way I could, I had such a fight with the fucking thing that I got pissed and took to it with a axe and got it small enough to throw out in the street – some idiot probably came and picked it up, took it home and put their kid in it – good luck to them I say!


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