Parenthood continues to be a joy.

Full of daily laughs, and the “newborn”, somehow already six months, is a delight.

I even get bits of time to do other things again! It’s almost as if my struggle with the hard bits, and tedium, the first time round was because we weren’t allowed to do anything else.

Almost.

And so I settle down to watch Friends™. Only to be interrupted by a whiny, shrill, voice:

“I don’t want to watch Fwends, I want to watch my progwamm”

Don’t you hate it when your other half hogs the TV?

Only kidding. I am, of course, talking about my, increasingly TV obsessed two year old. Truly we are our parents children.

As I’m forced to watch yet another episode of Paw Patrol™…

THAT’S IT.

I’m getting a vasectomy.

“The One With the Vasectomy”

First Chandler and Monica are back from their honeymoon. They made some “couple friends”. Much to the chagrin of the perpetually single Joey and Phoebe. If ONLY there was some way of sorting THAT problem. HINT. HINT.

Mr and Mrs Bing thought they made friends. Turns out they got a fake number. Can’t do that nowadays. You want to really lose someone you’ve got to give a fake name!

(Or delete all social media which, to be honest, probably wouldn’t be a great loss given Facebook™ is now one third adverts, one third baby photos, and one third  “suggested post”. And let’s not mention Twitter™ now being owned by Elon Musk™)

Phoebe and Joey are way ahead of us with the fake names, which makes me think (correctly in Joey’s case, it turns out) they may be using them to have sex with people then ghost them. I’m not entirely sure sex under a fake identity isn’t a form of rape?

Probably best not to dwell on it as we laugh at Phoebe’s fake name “Regina Phalange”.

Hang on; didn’t she once say she had a sorority sister with that name?

Yerh, she did! It was right after Ross’s cousin came to stay.

Him and Rachel are arguing over who made the first move when they made the baby. He claims she was sending him signals all day. But he doesn’t have the best track record when it comes to picking up signals. Just ask his cousin.

Fortunately the bickering stops (who’d want to bring a kid up in THAT environment) as Ross can prove what happened because he accidentally filmed it. Why he doesn’t explain it was accidentally to everyone immediately I will never know.

Anyway, through the medium of film, we can go back to six weeks ago! Confusingly this was when I was at Chandler and Monica’s wedding. Woah. Ross’s sperm must work quick…

Good job he’s got no game. Or there’d be a lot more babies kicking around!

In the run up to the baby making with Rachel, he confessed to Joey he hadn’t had sex in six months. Joey gave him some tips. Presumably leading with “don’t be such a creepy, desperate, weirdo the whole time”.

But the real key was Joey’s magic story about hitchhiking through Western Europe. Which Ross, reliably, cocked up on his date. So Joey told him he could use his audition taping set-up to practise. Mate, just used your smartphone.

Ross “accidentally” left it running when Rachel got back home. Hence the sex tape. Which, Joey is desperate to watch. As we all are. I mean. You would, wouldn’t you?

Sagely, it’s now almost exactly six years (SIX!) since I was last talking about sex tapes. And I’ve still yet to make one… How much time I’ve wasted.

It would be kind of cool to have a video of your kids conception. No? Just me? It’d be a hell of a thing to bust out at birthdays.

In this case it turns out pretty useful, as we find out it WAS Rachel who instigated things. By using Joey’s story, no less.

Later on, it’s just me, Rachel and Ross. And we decide to watch the whole thing. They’re giddily excited, which… you would be. I can’t imagine watching a sex tape I’d made with someone and it not making us want to do it again. Careful guys, you know what happened last time!

This is probably my cue to leave.

In any case, these days making a sex tape is far less relatable than something like Chandler and Monica struggling to find a time to schedule a double date.

Real Live Sitcom Moment:

Not to beat around the bush (which is incidentally, not how you get pregnant) I am now sitting with swollen, bruised balls.

The drastic action of a vasectomy not some rash decision taken in a fit of rage over a TV remote. But rather, carefully considered for almost a year.

I thought it would be harder. Not the operation itself. Getting one on the NHS. Part of why we’ve done it so soon after our second child was expecting a massive waiting period. Given it took my dad nine months for a cancer check-up, which was subsequently delayed by the Queens funeral, you’d think their priorities would be a bit different.

The operation was indeed hard. THAT’S an experience I would not care to repeat. The nurse and doctor were amazing, and all done in half an hour(!), but it was deeply unpleasant. In the days following the procedure I’ve struggled to overcome my shame at fainting. Perhaps I need to do a lot more work on conquering toxic masculinity than I let on?

But the sensation of the anaesthetic needle going in, and the cleaning and tugging that followed, is not something I will forget in a hurry. Next time someone offers me a good tug I’m gona think a lot longer before saying yes.

They mainly ask only a few questions for you to get the appointment. Maybe it used to be more difficult before the NHS was pushed to breaking point? I suppose now people having less kids is one way to keep future costs down.

The big questions are:

“Is your family complete?” – Yes, we’ve got two wonderful kids, and lucky enough to have a girl and boy. Plus I decided a long time ago anything more than two would be environmentally and (now) economically irresponsible.

“Have you considered other forms of birth control?” Durh. Did you not read my blog about accidentally buying three years worth of condoms?

“Are you aware that this is irreversible?” Yes, you’ve made that quite clear, thank you.

Despite our answers to the questions it’s the irreversibility, and the feelings that come with it after the fact, that I’m not as fully prepared for as I thought. (Which is not dissimilar to the experience of having children...)

Going to the bathroom and removing the cotton wool I was struck by a vivid memory of the operation. And a sudden feeling of finality, and a profound sense of loss. I know it’s something my wife has struggled with too. More so. We’ve both had our own moments of tears over the change.

Family members too, invite you to consider hypothetical futures:
"What if you divorce?" Well, I’ve already got my family. Any future partners will have to deal with it. I’d be unlikely to want to get back on the ride as I approach my return to freedom anyway. My mother took thing’s further: "Your new one’s very young, do you not want to wait till after winter?" Excuse me mum?! What are you suggesting? At this point he’s got more chance of making it through winter than you do. Have you seen the price of gas?

For me, it’s not so much any lost hypothetical future that’s hard to process. More this feeling of being prematurely old. The same way I feel about having two kids. Like I closed my eyes one day, and now I’m here. Sterilised and with my family all ready and built. No more mysteries.

There was one other hoop to jump through: The pre-examination. Bizarrely I had to wear a facemask during this. “Ok, I’m gonna cup your balls, but please don’t breathe on me.” Who are you, my wife?

“Hrrm, interesting.” The doctor said. “You know that thing old women get in their legs?”

“Varicose veins?”

“Yes. You’ve got that. But in your ball.”
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“Oh … can you fix it? You know, while you’re down there.”

“Oh no, much too risky.”

“Is it a worry?”

“Not really, slightly increased risk of testicular cancer. The most common side effect is infertility.”

Are you fucking kidding me?! If my old woman ball was a bit more effective I could have avoided this whole procedure!??!

Ultimately, we’ve known for a long while it’s the correct decision. A third child would cause more negativity than positivity in all our lives. This gives us a sense of security, (hopefully) an improved sex life, and an even bigger incentive to treasure the little moments with the children we already have. Even as they already slip through time. Where have the last two years gone? Where have the last six months gone. He’s already trying solid food.
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He’ll be having his own kids before I know it. With his own, perfect, unscarred, un-varicose veiny little ballsack. The bastard.
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If, after reading this, you’re considering a vasectomy, why not book a consultation today?
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Apparently you can pull out at any time.

So now we know, Ross is the father.

And everyone else knows too, except Ross.

I can’t help but be reminded of when we found out Chandler and Monica had hooked up.

Poor Ross, always the last to know, always the first to divorce.

“The One With the Fourth Wedding (Not Ross's)”

Mondler are off on their honeymoon. To Bermuda. I really hope they don’t go missing. Not sure how I’d cope if even more of my friends ended up stuck abroad.

I wonder if they’ll get any special treatment? We told everyone we possibly could we were on our honeymoon, and didn’t get “bumped up” for a single thing! Perhaps there was another honeymoon couple in front of us, stealing all the first class seats and executive rooms ahead of us? Let’s be honest, if there was, it was probably Ross.
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Chanica have left Joey and Phoebe home alone.

​ A bit like leaving a five year old with a box of matches. Sure enough, Joey immediately puts the moves on Phoebe. But she shoots him down like Cersei Lannister dealing with Jamie when she has better things to do. (Boo!)

So they turn to another discussion: “what happened to their keys to Mondler’s apartment?”

Naturally this leads to them reporting a gas leak and Mr Treeger shows up with the fire brigade.

Wait, a minute, I thought he was dead?? I’m really confused. How can he be here when he’s dead. Am I seeing ghosts? I think I need to lie down for a bit…

He makes reference to managing another apartment block that exploded. Hang on; you think he’s been dead this whole time?? Is this some sort of Sixth Sense™ situation?

Am I Bruce Willis?!

No I can’t be. I still have my hair. (Just about…)

And I wouldn’t have a chance in hell with Rachel.

If he is a ghost he’s a pretty powerful one, going to town on Chanica’s door with a fire axe. And just like that the door is split open, not unlike Rachel in eight months time. (God, I’m sorry…)

She’s gearing up to tell Ross. He’s got the wrong end of the stick, thinking she wants to get back together. It’s funny seeing him swan around thinking he’s God’s gift to women. Uh oh. I hope this isn’t what my wife see’s when I preen around looking in the mirror and talking about my hair?

Once again I’m seeing more similarities to myself and Ross than I’d care to admit. His reaction to the baby is not far off my own on discovering our second was already on the way – staring off into space for several minutes, no doubt contemplating a vasectomy.
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We’re only a few weeks away from mine now. (The vasectomy, the baby was five months ago, keep up.) Hey Ross! I’ll let you know how it goes. He’s going to want to be a lot more careful now he’s found out condoms are only 99.9% effective. As will Joey.

I had a similar scare during my consultancy. Apparently there’s a 1 in 2000 chance my tubes will simply heal themselves! Rendering all the pain and swelling completely pointless.

I asked the lady if this was more likely if, like us, you seem to be more fertile than the Levant ten thousand years ago. (Little archaeology joke for you there). I thought with all the smoking and drinking my fertility would be terrible. Turns out it was a complete waste of effort. All it’s done is meant when the kids finally leave I’ll barely have any time left to enjoy myself.

But she reassured me it’s more to do with how good you are at healing your tubes. So I’m not taking any chances. Every now and then I’m gona punch my nuts and yell “don’t you guys even think of getting back together!”

You are on a break.

Now that we’ve gone through the experience twice, it’s interesting thinking of Ross’s reaction from Rachel’s perspective. I say, interesting, more like horrific. Here is a man who she was in a loving relationship with, who completely let her down, and when she needs him most he doesn’t offer her any reassurance or anything.

At least he immediately realises how insensitive he’s been, and rushes to be by her side at the first scan. Only to go too far the other way by immediately insisting they get married. Who does he think he is; Joey?!

But Rachel seems a bit happier as he helps her through the scan, pointing out the weird rabbit/peanut/lizard looking thing is their new baby. Aw, takes me right back. Now where are my boxing gloves...

Real Live Sitcom Moment:

Maybe it’s the wedding fatigue, but our fourth, and final, wedding of the year was a mixed bag.

It started early, and went on late. Normally I’d be well up for that but it’s not ideal when you have a five month old with you. There was certainly a lot to like, great food and friends, no expense spared. But there was a lot of down time for a wedding. Mercifully the baby behaved them self, as did my wife whose turn it was to drink. And the couple looked amazing!

But there’s only so much sitting around doing nothing I can take, I can get that at home. Even the ceremony itself took around two hours. Which I wouldn’t have minded, but there was only one hour of ceremony material in it. As I said to a friend, it was a bit like watching a film where they hadn’t cut out any of the bits between the scenes.

And at the end of the day this was a wedding, not Cannes Film Festival.

Oh hi, how’s it going? Sorry… how you doin?

Been up to much?

Been on some nice holidays?

Uh huh. And remind me what you’re doing these days?

Wow, that’s amazing.

It IS crazy how long it’s been since we’ve seen each other!

Yerh, there ARE a lot of weddings at the moment.

Whole summer you say?

Well, I’ve had Joey Number 4’s, Chandler and Monica’s, and now this one. Who you ask? Joey Number 4’s Best Man. Just to keep things in the family. It worked out rather sweetly actually as each one deputised the other. Swapping the best man roles to keep things nice and simple. Let’s hope they don’t take things further and swap the wives too.

And now here we are. Three weddings down, one to go (tomorrow). What is this; a Richard Curtis film!

The Queen you say?

Oh come on.

 “The One With Four Weddings and a Funeral”

I truly am stuck in the wedding that never ends. As my New York Friends are only just heading home from Chanica’s wedding.

And it’s Chandlers job to fetch up the disposable cameras. Except he forgets, and him and Ross have to fake the pictures at ANOTHER wedding.

Durh, why didn’t they just get guests to take photos on their smartphones?

Having said that, Joey Number 4 did the old disposable camera thing too. But with a cool twist. They announced to everyone to take their photo then wait TEN minutes before passing the camera to someone else. Not only ensuring the cameras lasted later in the evening, but working as an effective ice breaker too.

Not that I needed an ice breaker at any of these weddings. Due to:
a) Being the only people with a baby tends to attract attention.
b) Having a baby with you makes it difficult to talk to anyone for any length of time anyway.

And by the time the evening guests have arrived you can only manage a few quick catch-ups before you have to leave to put baby to bed anyway. Though I’m not sure if that last sentence refers to us putting the baby to bed, or my wife having to put me to bed after a couple of hours back on the sauce.
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Either way, it seems my days of staying over late at a hotel for a wedding, as the Friends do, may be long gone. I suppose Rachel will be joining me in that regard in 9 months time…

Until then she gets to stay out partying, with the trade off of then having to pay for the hotel bill. Which includes all the snacks Joey stole from the minibar, as well as the porn he secretly watched in everyone’s room. I’ve said it before, but I really wouldn’t be surprised if that man had a real drink problem. This is not normal behaviour.

Even one porno would be a little odd but THREE? In ONE night!? Who is he? The guy who lived opposite me in halls who made my life a misery for a year by constantly alternating between blasting Amy Winehouse’s “Valerie” and loudly watching people doing some “blasting” of their own?

No, he’s Joey.

But despite his alcoholism, he’s ultimately a decent man, offering to marry Phoebe when he thinks she’s the one who’s pregnant. If you remember six months ago, you’ll know this was my dream for the two of them, but now it leaves me a little cold. They should be able to go off having crazy adventures, not stuck at home raising a baby!

Ultimately it doesn’t matter, of course, as Rachel is the one who’s pregnant. Joey again does the decent thing on finding out, and immediately ditches Phoebe. Wait, I’m not sure that’s very decent to Phoebe... And who’d want to see Joey and Rachel together? GOD, that’d be awful.

She could do worse though, as the re-appearance of Tag reminded me. There was a bit of confusion over a Red Sweater which pointed to who the father was, with Phoebe remembering Tag had one. Maybe they should have taken the lead from his name and checked for a Name Tag (Thank you, thank you…)
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One thing I’m a bit perplexed by: Does Tag not still work for Rachel? It’s difficult to tell from their meeting. I’ll have to ask her next time we hang out, and then we can finally settle this once and for all.

Real Live Sitcom Moment:

The other day we took the kids to the Princess Diana Memorial Playground™. Which has a tunnel, because irony isn’t something you consider when designing a park.

My kid went in the tunnel and, like Diana, didn’t come out the other side. Instead, she shouted out “DADDY, A POO, IN THE TUNNEL”.

Against my better judgement I went to see and, true enough, there was an actual shit in the tunnel.

Naturally, we went to report this to the park attendants. Surprisingly they were nonplussed; acting as if this happened all the time, I wasn’t the first person that told them, and that nothing could be done until the park had closed.

“You’re not gona, like, put a sign up to stop other kids going in there?”

“Oh no, we don’t have one.”

Hrrm, maybe this doesn’t happen all the time, I pondered. Until the other added:

“It’s disgusting what some parents let their kids do, isn’t it?”

Well, yes. But, if only, there was someone whose job it was to make sure the park was a safe environment for the other kids.

​We left the park. And still don’t know if the tunnel poop actually was a desperate child, or some sort of, very poorly judged, anti-monarchy protest.