The Manuel

The Manual



Where is the manual ? Please someone tell me there is one

The realisation of no manual dawns on me slowly.

We figure things out for ourselves, learn as we go along

Or do we ?

Does the nappy go on the bottom end or the top end ?

Is there a back and a front ?

Does it really matter anyway ?

Crying baby, is he hungry or just crying because he knows I have the headache from hell ?

You cuddle him to have him throw up on you for the millionth time that day.

Your favourite perfume if replaced with the everlasting smell of baby sick !

Holding two dummy’s in each hand ready for bed,

There is only one place ONE dummy can go surely ?

Why does he need four ?

Never mind, tucking him into bed, reading the same story yet again.

You daren’t miss a single page, line, for fear of being reprimanded by a toddler !

There MUST be a manual somewhere !

Someone somewhere must of written the perfect book for the perfect child.

Ok, maybe not !

You finally lay your head on your own pillow, just to be back up again ten minutes later to the sounds of ‘ mummmmmmmy ‘

During the course of the night, your up and down out of your own bed more times than a prostitutes knickers, and that’s saying something !

You pray for a whole nights sleep, you pray for many things,

Getting your life back, being one of them.

And all the time the line going through your head that many a person has told you

‘ enjoy them while their young, they grow up too fast’

With gritted teeth you bare this in mind as your eyes slowly close,

Knowing it wont be long before they are open again.

Where is the manual ? Someone tell me where is the manual .

Oh the joy’s of being a parent.