Going Out

This weeks post is a bit late due to us being part of the wedding of two our our closest friends. It was a beautiful day, and much e-congratulations to the newly weds – though they’ve been together for ten years already now, so I imagine there’s little difference, save for their left hands weighing more.

Off the back of the wonderful day, however, an oppourtunity for a post came to me – the cautiously unknown area (to us) of going away with a baby.

Let me explain – Ned has only ever stayed at our home. He hasn’t yet been looked after overnight by grandparents. He has never gone to bed anywhere other than his cot, and has never woken up anywhere else but our house.

We had taken the brave step in booking a hotel room for the night, and having Ned sleeping in with us. This presented itself a variety of problems, which I will now break down for you:

Space – Between us, me and Claire shared one small case for clothes, toiletries and the like. Because we were now travelling with a son, we took in addition One full nappy bag, One large bag with toys (for in the hotel room) one small bag of toys (for distractions during ceremony, dinner etc) And one fairly large pushchair. For what equated to an overnight stay, the car was full. I literally couldn’t take anything else in its boot. The family car is a Honda Jazz, and for anyone that knows, to fill the boot of it is quite the achievement.

Silence – The wedding was held in three different venues, each venue had a speech (Father of the bride, groom and best men, respectively) having speeches means people have to listen, which also means there is a period of time where silence is required. Not to mention the ceremony itself, which also requires a fairly important amount of quiet. Ned is not quiet. In fact, Ned is generally completely the opposite. No one wants to hear ‘Dadadadadada’ when the registrar is asking if there’s a reason why two people can’t be married. Luckilly for us, Ned graced us with relative silence throughout all the parts that mattered, which was partly luck, partly through the aid of grandparents and partly through the aid of constant distractions such as a book. Or a biscuit. Or Money. I’m joking of course – Ned hates biscuits.

Sleep – What with over eighty people present, all talking, drinking and having a good time, calming a baby to a level where they sleep was a nigh impossibility. Ned simply decided that no, he wasn’t going to sleep and that yes, we would have to deal with his crappy attitude due to lack of naps. During the final part of the wedding, our son managed to whinge his way to exhaustion and crashed at nearly 10pm with a permanent frown across his face.

Location – could be a part of sleep, but I thought it deserved its own section. Once we had retired to our hotel room, we realised that this was a very new, very different environment to what our son was used to sleeping in, and his waking reflected that. He was stressed, he was confused and I think he was a little scared to wake up in the night and instead of seeing his toys, there was a minibar. Needless to say, he was up a lot.

The good thing about this is while he wasn’t at his best, it didn’t take away from the day, which was amazing. I guess things like this need to be done to build up his resistance to difference, because that’s all it is at heart – it’s the fact that when all is said and done he, like his dad, is a grumpy old man who doesn’t like change.


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