Building a Harry-proof house

I’ve said before on several occasions that having a baby turns your life upside down. I’ve now discovered it’s not just your life that gets turned upside down – it’s also your house.

Now Harry’s crawling and, sometimes at least, walking, nothing is safe. If a door is left open, he’s through it; if there’s something he shouldn’t touch, he’s got hold of it. All of those toys he had at Christmas are quickly forgotten if he’s got the chance to grab our laptop or chew the hi-fi.

He knows his way around the house now too – put him down upstairs and he can find his way to the shower in seconds; leave the living room door open and he’s in the kitchen banging away on the piano.

So we’ve had to Harry-proof the house. We’ve got gates up everywhere and parts of the house now resemble a prison.

We’ve also had to rearrange the furniture in some parts of the house to keep Harry away from anything dangerous. Our front room, for instance, is now carefully arranged to stop him going near the fireplace or television. At least this gives him a little bit of freedom to roam – he’s already outgrown his playpen.

He still needs to be watched at all times though – he’s becoming quite skilled at climbing over and into things. The other day he managed to get into his toy box, which was previously an effective barrier to the television. Unfortunately for him, he couldn’t get out of it but I know it’s only a matter of time.

It was therefore a huge relief when we took him Blue Bears Play Barn in Wrexham, an indoor play area – fully cushioned – that he can explore without giving us heart failure.

Harry had a great time and, I’ll admit it, so did I, chasing after him as he climbed stairs, negotiated obstacles and generally tired himself out. One of the highlights was sitting him on my knee as we shot down one of the larger slides.

Of course Harry was fast asleep the moment we put him in the car. I was quite tired too and realised that crawling around on all fours for an hour isn’t ideal for a man approaching his mid-thirties. It was certainly worth the aches and pains afterwards, though.

Happy New Year

HARRY’S nearly a year old now and I’d like to think I’ve learned a little bit about being a parent.

I’ve learned, for instance, that as well as being the most rewarding and exciting thing I’ve ever done, it can also be quite tough at times, particularly when you’re in need of a good night’s sleep.

I’ve also learned that grandparents are seriously underrated; shipping Harry off to nan and grandad’s for the night is a luxury that helps remedy the aforementioned sleep deprivation.

Other important lessons include: learning not to relax, it’s impossible as soon as a baby learns to crawl or walk; being prepared for anything before leaving the house (two changes of clothes for Harry sometimes isn’t enough); and the power of bribery – a shampoo bottle is the current favourite – when confronted with a baby who doesn’t want his nappy changed.

Perhaps the most important lesson, though, has been that late nights are now a thing of the past.
Since Harry was born, I can probably count on one hand the number of times Melissa or myself has been awake beyond half ten. However, we decided to make an exception for New Year’s Eve – my brother and his wife had come over from Nottingham so it would have been rude to slope off to bed before seeing in the new year.

So, with Harry safely tucked up in bed, we had a couple of drinks and managed to see in the new year, enjoying a very pleasant evening in the process.

Unfortunately for us, Harry, who had been a little off colour for a couple of days and hadn’t been eating a great deal, woke up at 6am on New Year’s Day feeling much better – and hungrier.

Of course this meant there was no chance of a lie-in leaving us with a stark reminder that late nights and babies just don’t mix.

So that was Christmas

Harry’s first Christmas was every bit as enjoyable as we’d all hoped. I think it’s safe to say Harry had a great time even if he was, as expected, more interested in the boxes than the presents inside.

And he certainly wasn’t short of boxes by the end of the day. Melissa and I decided before Christmas that we wouldn’t go overboard with presents – he’s still a little too young to know what’s going on.

Having said that, it did require a fair amount of restraint on my part not to go mad when we did some last minute shopping.

Fortunately, Melissa, the voice of reason as ever, persuaded me not to buy the castle and train set I’d set my sights on.

Anyway, Harry got a trike and mini-trampoline from us. Building them was a bit of an ordeal – I didn’t realise how much assembly was involved – but, after a trapped finger and some angry muttering, I managed it.

Melissa wrapped the presents in the hope that Harry would tear the paper off as soon as he saw them; unfortunately he was more interested in having a bite of my toast on Christmas morning.

Then the family arrived. Harry’s incredibly generous nans, grandads, uncle and aunties, as well as our friends and relatives, all ensured he now has enough toys to keep him occupied until he’s about five – and our conservatory is still knee-deep in wrapping paper and boxes to prove it.

In fact, Harry had so much to play with, he didn’t know what to do next. He was absolutely shattered by tea time but he wasn’t the only one – Melissa somehow managed to prepare a delicious meal for 12 despite the chaos around her.

I was also ready for bed by 10pm, although I’m sure Melissa will tell you that had more to do with drinking beer in the afternoon than hard work. It’s not true of course; it was just the emotion of Harry’s first, magical Christmas. Roll on next year.

Shopping trauma

Harry, it turns out, doesn’t like shopping. In fact, he can’t bear it, particularly at busy supermarkets.

Now this might not sound like a big issue but, when you’re in a packed supermarket full of Christmas shoppers, it can be a traumatic experience.

Last Sunday we popped to Asda in Wrexham. Harry had enjoyed a decent nap before we set off so we thought he’d be in a good mood at the supermarket. He was – for about five minutes; he then started shouting, crying, chewing the side of the trolley and trying to grab, tear and throw anything he could get his hands on.

Melissa and I tried everything to keep him happy, including coaxing, singing and dancing, which can’t have been a very pleasant experience for the other shoppers. More to the point, it didn’t calm Harry down.

We got one or two sympathetic looks, obviously from parents who’ve been through similar trials; we also got a few ‘why-on-earth-would-you-bring-your-child-to-a-busy-supermarket’ looks. To be honest, it’s a question I asked myself.

So we resorted to bribery – feeding Harry crisps (organic baby crisps, of course) to keep him quiet. Surprisingly, this worked – until he finished the packet and the circus began again.

By the time we’d made it round the shop, both Melissa and I had reached the conclusion that babies and supermarkets simply don’t mix – particularly at Christmas time.

As a result, Melissa has vowed to do her supermarket shopping online in future. It’s worth it for a quiet life, something shoppers at Wrexham’s Asda will no doubt agree with.

First steps...

LAST Sunday encapsulated what being a parent is all about: it can give you a feeling of pure joy that is unmatched by anything I’ve ever experienced (I know it sounds gushing, but it’s the truth); it can also leave you stressed worried and shattered. And that’s what happened last weekend.

Things started off in remarkable fashion - Harry took his first step. Melissa and I were sat on the sofa with mugs of tea enjoying a lazy Sunday morning. Harry was playing on the floor when he decided to stand up. On this occasion, though, he didn’t just sit down again - he stepped towards us.

Melissa and I looked at each other in shock – we simply weren’t expecting it. It was an incredible moment, and I’m absolutely delighted I was there to witness it.

Of course, we spent the rest of the day hoping he would do it again. He did, once.

Anyway, I put him to bed feeling on top of the world. It didn’t last.

Harry had been starting a cold on Sunday but he’d been happy enough despite a runny nose. However, after sleeping for a couple of hours, he woke and I couldn’t get him to drop off again.

I walked him round the house, sang to him, played with him, even allowed him to watch In The Night Garden, but it didn’t work.

Harry’s had colds before but I’d never seen him so upset for so long – he simply wouldn’t settle. Eventually I gave in and took him into our bed. As usual, he wanted to cuddle his mum but he would not drop off to sleep.

It meant Melissa and I managed to get about an hour’s sleep on Sunday night, leaving us completely shattered the following morning. Melissa then spent the day looking after a very unhappy, poorly baby – she was certainly pleased to see me when I returned from work on Monday night.

But although Sunday was a real up and down day, it didn’t take the shine off seeing Harry’s first steps; that’s something I’ll never forget.

Harry's first Christmas

Melissa is always excited at the prospect of Christmas and, with Harry around, she’s even more festive this year.

This meant our decorations went up on December 1. Now I love Christmas but putting decorations up while trying to entertain a 10-month-old is no easy task. However, thanks largely to Melissa’s determination, we managed it.

So we’ve now got decorations everywhere – and I mean everywhere. The inside of our house looks like the set from Close Encounters of the Third Kind. Goodness knows what it will do to our electric bill.

But I’ve been warned not to do my usual ‘bah humbug’ about the decorations this year. As Melissa points out, it’s Harry’s first Christmas and we should make the effort.

Having said that, I’ve no idea what Harry makes of it all, and I’m fairly sure he hasn’t got a clue why our house is suddenly bathed in dazzling light. He does like the twinkle lights, though, and his favourite game at the moment is trying to grab them at every opportunity.

Anyway, our home is certainly feeling suitably festive now, which has got me thinking about Christmas presents, Harry’s in particular. I would like to buy him something exciting, such as a train set. I know he’s still little but he could always sit in his cot and watch the trains running.

Unfortunately Melissa has seen straight through that argument. As far as she is concerned, I shouldn’t be using Harry as an excuse to buy toys that I want to play with.

It must be a boy thing. My brother visited at the weekend and one of his first questions was ‘When’s he old enough to have a Scalextric?’

Of course, Melissa is quite right that Harry’s just a bit too young to appreciate train sets and racing cars but I’m sure he’s going to have a great time anyway – there’ll be plenty of people to entertain him and plenty of boxes to chew, tear and throw around. What more could a baby want?

Who does Harry take after?

It’s funny how different people see different things in Harry. For every person who says ‘he looks just like you’ to me, another will say ‘doesn’t he look like his mum’ to Melissa.

To be honest, I’m not sure which one of us he takes after. After all, he’s a baby and, although I obviously think Harry is the best looking little boy ever, I accept that all babies look alike, at least to some extent.

My grandad sees things differently, though. Not long after Harry was born, he told me that he ‘didn’t look like a Wright’, adding that it was definitely a good thing.

Melissa’s nan agrees that he takes after the Evans side of the family, and is convinced Harry will have curly hair like his grandad.

My mum says Harry’s just like me at that age, a conclusion she seems to have reached based on the fact he frowns a lot when he’s hungry.

As I say, though, I’m not really sure which one of us he looks like. Some days I think he resembles me; other days I think he looks just like Melissa.

One things for sure, Harry’s certainly got my hairline – a sort of permanently receded one – which I’m sure he won’t thank me for in later years.

I’ve also spotted some of Melissa’s character traits in him – he’s very happy (most of the time) and he’s noisy. The fact that he loves looking at his reflection is also something he’s inherited from his mum.

To be honest, though, I don’t care which one of us he takes after. Harry will be his own person and, I’m sure, he’ll inherit our very best qualities. I certainly hope so.