The other morning I was changing Ollie’s nappy and he was really cracking it. In my efforts to calm him down and distract him from being on the change table (which by the way used to be his favourite thing) I started singing. Now, I am by no means a decent singer but for some reason Ollie seems to be a fan of my Wiggles and Fleetwood Mac renditions. For the first time ever, Big Red Car and Landslide just weren’t working for me. Think fast… think fast I told myself. Come up with something new!

I launched into a new song, something that I made up myself and what do you know… it worked! I even threw a bit of a PeeWee Herman twist on my voice for extra affect. He not only stopped crying, but started laughing and squealing in excitement. I gave myself a mental high five and kept on changing that stinky nappy. Ten minutes later he was changed and asleep in his cot and I was enjoying my second (or was it third or fourth) coffee of the day. I realised that I was singing the song again (or had I not stopped singing it?) and smiled at myself still very impressed. A few more minutes passed and I was still singing the song, it really was a catchy little tune. I put my coffee cup down and thought about the song. It went like this….

[To the tune of Macho Man by the Village People]

Poopy poopy pants, We need to change your poopy pants.  Poopy poopy pants, We need to change your poopy PANTS PANTS PANTS PANTS PANTS…..

I’ll spare you the rest but this gives you a very clear idea of just how tragic I’ve become. Beyond tragic.

Even in my 20’s, I was never someone who was cool. Sure I had friends and was a bit of a social butterfly but I was never one of the ‘cool kids’. Despite never being in that group, I surely had to be cooler than singing songs about nappy changing to the tune of a Village People song. Apparently not.

As I’ve posted before, there’s a whole host of things I said I’d never do or was judgey about before I became a mother. It seems to me that just about everything I said I’d never do, I have now done out of necessity for my general sanity and getting things done. I used to be against using a dummy. Fast forward to now, my child rarely goes without one. I remember judging people that let their kids watch TV ‘too much’ (who knows how much I thought was too much). Now, I will pop Ollie in the jumper and in front of the TV if I’m home alone with him and need to make dinner/make a phone call/whatever. Guess what past judegey Carla? The world hasn’t stopped spinning, it’s actually what people call – doing what you need to do. Shocking.

Apart from my chirpy excrement filled ballads, I’ve also found myself saying the strangest things to my child.   Here are a few of my faves:

“Do you have to lick everything?” “Please don’t lick the dog” “Why do you always have your penis in a vice-like grip? Doesn’t that hurt?”  “Leave your hee-hee alone”

I asked some of my friends what the weirdest things they’ve said to their kids, here is just a few of their responses which are absolute gold. They are rather unsurprisingly dominated by faeces and genitals….

“We don’t eat poo!” “If you keep pulling your penis it might come off…” “If you don’t wear clothes outside the magpie will bite your doodle off and you will become a girl.” “My mum telling Mati she will buy her a penis for Christmas when she was tragically upset that she can’t just choose to have one.”

Today’s lesson – if you say you won’t do it, you probably will. Oh and it’s completely okay to be uncool! Do whatever it takes (within reason of course!) to get you through the day!

(Side note – It has now been a couple of weeks and yes, I’m still singing that song. I’m guessing that after reading this, you might be now to………. YOU’RE WELCOME!)