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Thursday, December 1, 2011

A Crying Shame

ORIGINAL POSTED 27th JUNE 2012 THIS IS BEING HIDDEN HERE BECAUSE, DUE TO MY TECH UNSMARTS, I'VE POSTED IT TWICE.

Now here we are, nine days later, and she's out again! This time with her mother and sister, watching a  show called Motherhood or something.

I know what you're thinking - what a selfless man: what a lucky woman. Hey, maybe I don't know what you're thinking afterall.

All I know is once the dinner, baths & bed are done, it's all about me.

All day at work I kept running over things in my head to ensure it was going to run smooth. Should we play UNO before bed? Should I let them bunk in the one room? What are their names again? It's important to get these little things right.

Which was lucky I did because, as always on the big jobs, something was overlooked this morning.

"Tracey!" I said when she answered the phone. "You need to put some beer in the fridge."

Disaster averted.

So now it's 8pm and everyone is asleep. Actually they've been asleep for nearly an hour. Usually their bed time is around now, but they looked so puckered out and besides, I hid the clock.

How. Awesome. Is this.

Tonight is about me. I can drink beer on the lounge and watch the shows which make Tracey cringe. I'm starting with an episode of Yes, Minister followed by Who's Line Is It Anyway and then a little Fawlty Towers, all while reading The Bourne Supremacy on my kindle....wait, that's the baby. All good - installed a dummy.

So now it's 10.30pm. 

The big kids were great tonight. The only time I heard hide nor hair of them was when Miss8 popped into the lounge room and asked me to keep the baby quiet because she was trying to sleep.

I don't know what my wife did to our baby before she left but clearly Miss0 was broken.

I've barely had time to scratch myself tonight. I haven't watched a single thing I wanted. I haven't even had a beer. My night was a cycle of dummy, bottle, burp, nappy, dummy, bottle, burp, nappy - none of it making any difference. 

Of course, when Tracey walked in the door she took the crying baby out of my hands and the noise stopped.

"Is there a button or a switch I don't know about?" I asked her.

Next time Tracey wants a girls night out I'm thinking she can take the kids so we can both have some fun.





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About Me

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Bruce Devereaux is one of the nicest people he knows. When not at work he enjoys reading, writing, hiding from his children and not changing nappies.

 

His career, and if we used the term any more loosely an e might fall out, has included a gardener, a personal lender, a console operator, a stop/go man (not as big a bludge as you might think but great if you’re into sunburn, abuse and varicose veins), a cleaner of banks and pubs and, for a very brief period, a door to door salesman (until the last door he knocked on was answered by a very scary woman with tremendously hairy legs).

 

Bruce Devereaux currently works as a forty-five-year-old award winning customer service officer (glass statuette available upon request) for the Bank of Queensland and as a very casual employee for Corrective Services. He likes to believe he excels at both but then he has always been prone to exaggeration.

 

His favourite colour is green, with a picture of Dame Nellie Melba on one side and General Sir John Monash on the other. His favourite flower is self-raising.

 If you see him around town, call his wife immediately - he's probably snuck out and left her alone with all the kids.


 

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