Things they don’t tell you about parenting part one: balls out

In a new series on the blog, i’m going to be talking about the things that nobody warned me about before I became a parent. So if you’re yet to become a parent, here is some advice that nobody ever imparted to me – the bastards. I can only assume people were too embarrassed to admit it and that it perhaps made them some sort of parenting failure. I’m just going to say now that unless you are abusing or mistreating your child, there is no such thing as a parenting failure, we are all trying our best. So here we go, forewarned is forearmed as I always say!

First up, let’s talk balls. Not footballs, not Ed Balls, BALL BALLS. Everybody bangs on about the sleepless nights with a newborn but nobody, NOBODY tells you about the balls all over your sofa. I mean actual ball bags, testicles, scrotums just rubbed all over your soft furnishings. My children are dressed in pants every morning, not without a fair amount of nagging, and yet it seems to be a complete surprise to them that they once again, have to put pants on. At some point during the day the pants disappear and there they are, balls out all over the sofa.
‘Please put pants on’ I plead ‘you can’t just sit there with your willy and balls out.’
The insouciant look they give in reply suggests otherwise.
‘Actually Mother, I CAN just sit here with my bits out and there is nothing you can do about it’ they seem to say.
I can only assume that they will eventually grow out of it, I mean, they won’t be there at 18 with their balls out all over the place will they? WILL THEY?
Our sofas are horrible, really really nasty, ugly and cheap. David and I often talk about replacing them but what would be the point? It would be so upsetting to see balls all over my beautiful new sofas and it would just give me something else to nag about and I hate being that nagging cow. Not only that but until we are through potty training with Tom and they’re all at the stage where they know they are going to be able to vomit into the lavatory, it does seem pointless so I may as well just live with the ugly sofas for the next few years. I lament about this to a fellow Mum over drinks at Christmas.
‘Ah, we have leather sofas! So I just wipe them clean if something happens.’
‘That’s a good idea, maybe we should do that.’
‘Yes but you do have to live with them and they are bloody ugly.’
‘Not to mention that if it’s hot and you’re in shorts, you stick to them and then make a farting sound when you get up. Ohh but so practical.’
I should note that I do love Chesterfields which would be perfect in a beautiful wood panelled study, the sort that you can imagine Churchill in, smoking cigars and drinking whisky but I do not live in a house with a beautiful wood panelled study, I live in a Barratt house and none of us smoke cigars and very rarely drink whisky.

So i’ve narrowed it down to four options;
1. Stick with current ugly sofas and just live with them
2. Buy leather sofas and just live with them
3. Buy lovely new fabric sofas and be one of those anally retentive women who has them covered in plastic
4. Glue pants to children

NB I started writing this blog a few weeks back and since then my eldest seems to have actually grown out of the no pants stage (I should bloody hope so at his age). One down, two to go!

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