LIFE BY LOUIS: Childcare is tougher than it looks

I need all the prayer warriors to come together for this one. 

My fears are coming to life. Our Domestic Secretary, the one and only appointee in charge of all domestic affairs is still holed up somewhere in Ndundori. Apparently, she missed the connecting matatu back to her work station here in the leafy suburbs.

Luckily, I happen to be on leave so I gladly took the role of staying in with the boys until we got enough funds to charter a matatu for the Domestic Secretary.

The younger boy is still in diapers and requires feeding through force, threats and some form of magic.

READY TO TAKE ON CHALLENGE

If as a man you thought taking domestic instructions was that easy, then you are wrong.

I woke up in the morning ready to take on the challenge of being the Acting Domestic Secretary.  There was some form of mashed food, milk, porridge, yoghurt and another unidentified semi-liquid content in a feeding bottle.

There was also a banana which is my special recipe for the boys. We always share one clandestinely before dinner, and the boys later refuse to eat their dinner, much to the chagrin of the DS.

To us a banana is like a mzinga that you session with quietly with the boys in the parking lot before you head out to the club to give the mixologist a severe headache with exotic cocktails that you can hardly pronounce, but I digress.

FORGOT THE ORDER

The minute I saw the five concoctions and the banana, I forgot the order in which I was supposed to give these food items to the boy.

I therefore kept all the items in a warmed up mode in the sitting room, plus the boy nearby with a feeder tied nicely on his chest.

That setup alone took me well over an hour and I was satisfied with the progress so far. At some point, I played some lullabies from a playlist and lit a candle, and I wondered where I suddenly acquired all that class from.

CONSPIRACY

I don't know why babies dislike food which is so painstakingly prepared specifically for them, then they suckle so noisily at night?

I felt like it was a conspiracy to report back to his mother that I am a hotbed of domestic incompetence.

I compare their behaviour to that of a damsel you take for a five-course dinner treat at an exclusive Japanese eatery where you have delicately selected the menu items to include the choicest birds and sea animals.

Instead, the damsel gingerly picks on some two tiny pieces of meat and declares that her tummy is full. However, on the way back home, she passes by a popular chicken and fish eatery along Moi Avenue and demolishes a whole chicken, a small bag of chips and chases the meal down with a half litre of soda. But this was not about damsels.

The little boy’s mouth slammed shut at the sight of an approaching spoon. I tried the milk, but you would have thought that the boy had acquired a sudden lactose intolerance that morning.

I thought the yoghurt would be a better idea because it looks and tastes like something that babies would love, but I was wrong.

At some point, I was almost giving up but I insisted that I still got my game all figured out.

I summoned the elder boy and requested him to teach his younger brother some nursery school rhymes.

FELL FOR IT

The young man fell for it and he laughed heartily, probably at my hoarse voice that sounded like it was emanating from the throat of a retired frog.

The moment he opened his tiny mouth to imitate the lyrics, I stuffed three quick spoonfuls into his mouth.

This went on smoothly until half the contents on the table were consumed and I considered that achievement good enough.

EXHAUSTING

It was thoroughly exhausting and I needed some relief, but I basked under the outcome as the boy soon fell asleep with a full belly.

I have declared 2019 as the Year of the Liver whereby I stopped taking adult beverages on New Year’s Eve. However, I am kindly seeking a one day extension so as to thank myself for having successfully completed a crash course in Baby Care and Associated Domestic Services.

If anyone sees our DS at stranded at a matatu terminus in Ndundori waiting for a connecting matatu to Koja, please give her a lift. I can only handle this much in 2019.

***

Do you have feedback on this article? E-mail: [email protected]