Bit of fun before the main event:
Chandler and Monica have agreed to let Joey ordain their wedding!
Bit random. What with that and the bagpipes this is shaping up to be quite the occasion.
Before it was set in stone there was some drama (when isn’t there?).
Phoebe let slip that the night Chanica hooked up in London; Monica was actually hoping to find Joey!!
Chandler and Monica have agreed to let Joey ordain their wedding!
Bit random. What with that and the bagpipes this is shaping up to be quite the occasion.
Before it was set in stone there was some drama (when isn’t there?).
Phoebe let slip that the night Chanica hooked up in London; Monica was actually hoping to find Joey!!
I’d be pretty pissed at Phoebe if she did something like this to me, but Monica’s more concerned with explaining things to Chandler who’s understandably upset.
Fortunately Joey had some lovely words to say, and the bros for life moved past it before it led to anything life changing.
“The One With the Life Changing Thing”
Our big news is, right after getting in the house, our baby sensed it was time and started popping out!!
Two days before our planned Caesarean. He can’t be my son, I’m never early.
Frustratingly the Caesarean was originally planned for the day before this but they pushed it back at the last minute. So we had a completely avoidable mad rush to the hospital, which did NOT go to plan, as you’ll see later.
But it all turned out fine. And, much to the amusement of my family, my son was born on May 4th aka STAR WARS Day™. Damnit, will I never be free from Disney’s™ iron grip on everything I once held dear?
My wife’s pre-occupation with keeping our newborn alive has given me plenty of quality time with the daughter. And Rachel, too, has been practising parenting, watching Ben for an hour at Ross’s insistence.
She won him over by teaching him some classic pranks, to Ross’s chagrin.
She’s not the only one impressing a child. With ZERO prompting the other day my daughter said I was funny! She even said I was cool when I put a shirt on one morning! Finally, I have achieved peak dad. And can now retire.
It’s amazing how she suddenly gets language. We took the baby home to introduce them and, without needing any explanation, she said the baby was cute, and then started listing all the other people in the house that are cute “Me, Mummy, Arthur (cat)”.
“Wow, that’s great! Is daddy cute?”
“No”
See, she just gets it!
Although, like Rachel and Ben, this has highlighted one big problem. I am incredibly liberal when it comes to swearing. And completely incapable of reining it in. Fortunately my wife is pretty cool with this, but we’re both aware it’s going to become more and more of an issue.
It may even be too late. The other day my father-in-law spilt tea on our brand-new carpet and I ran downstairs swearing my head off in the dash to get some kitchen roll. All the while, my daughter copying me, laughing her head off saying “f**k, f**k, f**k”.
Oh dear. And this is before she’s started being influenced by others! She absolutely adores her cousin, but he runs round yelling and hitting things (He’s 28 years old…). Our sweet gentle thing, who gives loving cuddles to her brother… it may only be a matter of time before she changes. Ah well. At least we’ve got a spare now.
It looks like there’s plenty still left to teach her. Lots of dadding to do. But for now I can enjoy her new language skills. The other day I told my wife she was looking hot and the kid said “mum, daddy, bed!”
It’s good to know she’s got my back.
Real Live Sitcom Moment:
I loaded up my car with the last bit of stuff to go to the tip, and drove off.
It was closed! Oh no, I’ll have to go to the other one. Then, as I was about to drive off, my wife rang:
“Can you come back please? I think it might be happening…”
I rushed back and we bundled the three, soon to be four, of us into my wife’s car (on the grounds it was slightly less full of rubbish...)
We were almost at the hospital when I saw a man gesturing at me in, what I thought, was a very rude manner.
My wife, somehow less distracted than me given her predicament, worked out the source of the guys consternation.
“THE CAR’S ON FIRE”
I looked at the bonnet and, yep, sure enough, we were approaching the point at which I would be smashing triangle and running away if this was Grand Theft Auto™.
“EVERYBODY OUT!!!” I shouted, doing what you’re not supposed to do in this situation, getting my entirely family out the car on the slip road of the M1. I’d be damned if we’d all be exploded at our moment of triumph. I am many things, but Grand Moff Tarkin is not one of them.
We stood in mild panic as the cars started to drive around us. When a kind lady with a family of three stopped to help. She was a doctor, and had sensed my wife may be about to become rapidly less pregnant than she looked.
Her car had space for two and so for the second time in as many years I stood helpless as a doctor came and took my wife away from me. This time with my crying daughter too.
I stood with the car and waited for a mechanic to ring me back.
A man stopped with the world’s smallest fire extinguisher, only to leave when we couldn’t work out how to open the bonnet. (I later found out it was on the left hand side, as the car was a US model that had been converted to right-hand drive).
A police van stopped. Help at last!
“Just so you know this’ll need to move because of where it is on the slip road.”
Well, yes. I wasn’t planning on leaving it here. Can you help? No? Ok, bye then.
A second police van stopped. Any chance you could do something here? No, thought not…
Eventually the mechanic rang and persuaded me it was fine to drive the (luckily) very short distance to my mother in laws house in a low gear, using a well placed hill to coast down on the way. Thank God! I will make it to the hospital in time!!
So I set off, to meet my destiny, but not before losing my cool with a van driver who honked as he drove past.
“OH GO JUMP OFF A….” I shouted, before my brain froze and I looked round comically for a thing to say. Just like in the sitcoms.
Unlike a sitcom, everything worked out fine as the first thing my eyes landed on was a nearby bridge.
“BRIDGE!!” I finished. Sure, the van driver was long gone. But at least I hadn’t embarrassed myself.
Fortunately Joey had some lovely words to say, and the bros for life moved past it before it led to anything life changing.
“The One With the Life Changing Thing”
Our big news is, right after getting in the house, our baby sensed it was time and started popping out!!
Two days before our planned Caesarean. He can’t be my son, I’m never early.
Frustratingly the Caesarean was originally planned for the day before this but they pushed it back at the last minute. So we had a completely avoidable mad rush to the hospital, which did NOT go to plan, as you’ll see later.
But it all turned out fine. And, much to the amusement of my family, my son was born on May 4th aka STAR WARS Day™. Damnit, will I never be free from Disney’s™ iron grip on everything I once held dear?
My wife’s pre-occupation with keeping our newborn alive has given me plenty of quality time with the daughter. And Rachel, too, has been practising parenting, watching Ben for an hour at Ross’s insistence.
She won him over by teaching him some classic pranks, to Ross’s chagrin.
She’s not the only one impressing a child. With ZERO prompting the other day my daughter said I was funny! She even said I was cool when I put a shirt on one morning! Finally, I have achieved peak dad. And can now retire.
It’s amazing how she suddenly gets language. We took the baby home to introduce them and, without needing any explanation, she said the baby was cute, and then started listing all the other people in the house that are cute “Me, Mummy, Arthur (cat)”.
“Wow, that’s great! Is daddy cute?”
“No”
See, she just gets it!
Although, like Rachel and Ben, this has highlighted one big problem. I am incredibly liberal when it comes to swearing. And completely incapable of reining it in. Fortunately my wife is pretty cool with this, but we’re both aware it’s going to become more and more of an issue.
It may even be too late. The other day my father-in-law spilt tea on our brand-new carpet and I ran downstairs swearing my head off in the dash to get some kitchen roll. All the while, my daughter copying me, laughing her head off saying “f**k, f**k, f**k”.
Oh dear. And this is before she’s started being influenced by others! She absolutely adores her cousin, but he runs round yelling and hitting things (He’s 28 years old…). Our sweet gentle thing, who gives loving cuddles to her brother… it may only be a matter of time before she changes. Ah well. At least we’ve got a spare now.
It looks like there’s plenty still left to teach her. Lots of dadding to do. But for now I can enjoy her new language skills. The other day I told my wife she was looking hot and the kid said “mum, daddy, bed!”
It’s good to know she’s got my back.
Real Live Sitcom Moment:
I loaded up my car with the last bit of stuff to go to the tip, and drove off.
It was closed! Oh no, I’ll have to go to the other one. Then, as I was about to drive off, my wife rang:
“Can you come back please? I think it might be happening…”
I rushed back and we bundled the three, soon to be four, of us into my wife’s car (on the grounds it was slightly less full of rubbish...)
We were almost at the hospital when I saw a man gesturing at me in, what I thought, was a very rude manner.
My wife, somehow less distracted than me given her predicament, worked out the source of the guys consternation.
“THE CAR’S ON FIRE”
I looked at the bonnet and, yep, sure enough, we were approaching the point at which I would be smashing triangle and running away if this was Grand Theft Auto™.
“EVERYBODY OUT!!!” I shouted, doing what you’re not supposed to do in this situation, getting my entirely family out the car on the slip road of the M1. I’d be damned if we’d all be exploded at our moment of triumph. I am many things, but Grand Moff Tarkin is not one of them.
We stood in mild panic as the cars started to drive around us. When a kind lady with a family of three stopped to help. She was a doctor, and had sensed my wife may be about to become rapidly less pregnant than she looked.
Her car had space for two and so for the second time in as many years I stood helpless as a doctor came and took my wife away from me. This time with my crying daughter too.
I stood with the car and waited for a mechanic to ring me back.
A man stopped with the world’s smallest fire extinguisher, only to leave when we couldn’t work out how to open the bonnet. (I later found out it was on the left hand side, as the car was a US model that had been converted to right-hand drive).
A police van stopped. Help at last!
“Just so you know this’ll need to move because of where it is on the slip road.”
Well, yes. I wasn’t planning on leaving it here. Can you help? No? Ok, bye then.
A second police van stopped. Any chance you could do something here? No, thought not…
Eventually the mechanic rang and persuaded me it was fine to drive the (luckily) very short distance to my mother in laws house in a low gear, using a well placed hill to coast down on the way. Thank God! I will make it to the hospital in time!!
So I set off, to meet my destiny, but not before losing my cool with a van driver who honked as he drove past.
“OH GO JUMP OFF A….” I shouted, before my brain froze and I looked round comically for a thing to say. Just like in the sitcoms.
Unlike a sitcom, everything worked out fine as the first thing my eyes landed on was a nearby bridge.
“BRIDGE!!” I finished. Sure, the van driver was long gone. But at least I hadn’t embarrassed myself.
