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My prized speakers have baby finger dents in. I drive a sensible family car covered in animal biscuit crumbs and odd baby shoes.

My wife goes for days without having time to pee. Last night I slept on the floor next to a toddler struggling to sleep with constipation, but regularly managing to squeeze out near toxic poots. Most days I go down a slide and climb over a wobbly bridge. Life is full, tiring, loud, messy and at times overwhelming.

I have found myself looking forward to the boys growing up – big enough to watch movies from start to finish. Big enough to stay in bed longer than me. Big enough to want to communicate what they are thinking. I have realised that I’m wishing time away.

But, in between the toxic smells as I lay on the floor next to my eldest son I felt a renewed determination to hold on to these moments as they pass. It won’t be long before my son wants to be alone when he’s backed up. It won’t be long before my sons want to go down the slide or across the wobbly bridge on their own. So I’m attempting to embrace the noise, the mess and the madness and to be thankful for the fullness and tiredness. I’m lucky and happy to be a sleep deprived, overwhelmed, dirty Meriva-driving dad.





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