Mr. Mooshy

So last week, ‘Mr. Q’ called me a “Mooshy father.” Me! I nearly fell off the floor for laughing.

I’m sure he must just skim over my blog posts before retweeting, (for which I am truly grateful), because he clearly missed the following:-

“…nothing but a blade and a smile that puts Heath Ledger’s joker to shame, slicing and dicing EVERYTHING in my path.”

And:-

“You will no doubt remember the scene of carnage at the end of Kill Bill volume one. Limbs and heads no longer attached to torso’s and what not, in a great big pile of blood and flesh, in the middle of a dance floor. Now note that your humble narrator, has in fact been trained to use a katana…”

Okay, I think he might have noticed that last one, and I secretly think that’s why he remains anonymous, he must be sh*tting himself, just in case I come looking for him to give him the old corbata colombiana. 😉

Mooshy indeed!

To be fair to him, I have on occasion, (just once or twice mind you), shown the readers a little of the love I have for my son. After all, he is my first, and maybe I might be suffering, (just a smidgen), from ‘Precious First Born Syndrome’, plus I’m a modern man, you know, with feelings and all that jazz, but I wouldn’t say I’ve been all “gooey” and what not.

Have I?

No, exactly!

So. Just for you Mr. Q, as I’m sure you were just projecting, meet Mr. Mooshy Wooshy, and all the lubby wubby we have for our ikkle wikkle kiddy winkles.

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Day one: September 4th. My ikkle baba, whisked off to NICU, the moment he was born. We had learnt there may be a heart defect, that may require surgery, just four days before. 😥

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Day three: Baba doesn’t need a zip in his chest. 🙂 Mummy super ill with a nicked intestine. 😥 Daddy exhausted, with sixty mile round trip every day, and then running around three floors of Saint Michaels hospital all day with expressed milk. 😦

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Day four: Mummy and JB finally meet, and get to bond. This moment is still the one that gets stuck in my throat every time I see this photo, and we have a larger than life copy above the fire place 🙂

Mummy and my ikkle boy were finally allowed home a week after the birth. This was the point when I finally got to stop running around being a rock for my family and take in the gravity of the situation. Letting my emotions flood out and overwhelm me for half an hour, before I needed to be a rock again and get on with being the great provider.

Now wipe that tear away Mr. Q, go hug your family, and enjoy that fleeting moment.

Much love to you and yours,

Mr Mooshy.

Feel free to leave comments here, or follow me on twitter or google+

I have just fired up a new blog all about my photography. If you’re interested, visit here to take a look at some of my past work.

Taking a well deserved break for a fortnight, so will be making memories rather than writing about them. You might get a post, you might not. That all depends on whether there is internet beyond the wall, or if I get eaten by the white walkers.

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3 thoughts on “Mr. Mooshy

  1. Lol.. Im well aware Paul aka Mr Quranify called ya mooshy… He was right… And ur awesome

    Love to you and ur family

    Deana

    Aka naradee12
    Aka secularscarlet.wordpress.com xx

    Like

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