7 excuses why I haven’t blogged in a while

I haven’t updated my blog in over a month because I’ve been too busy doing other stuff. Sounds legit? Of course it does. Here’s a few excuses that I’ve just invented about why I haven’t updated my blog in a while.

Part Three in a trilogy can suck.

After writing out some notes about becoming a dad, and deciding to split them into three blog posts, I quickly realised that I risk setting myself up to create a crappy Part Three. I’m afraid of stirring up a whiny, ultra-philosphical, emotionally-charged techno-hipster cocktail of equal parts Spiderman 3 and Matrix Revolutions. Please bear with me as I try to fry up a tasty literature-burger comprised of timeless Toy Story 3 tears of nostalgia with an explosion of Bourne Ultimatum awesome-sauce.

I’ve been exploring the interwebnets, seeking inspiration.

I’ve recently come across a bunch of Aussie Dad blogs. Not only am I late to the party, but I didn’t realise there were so many great dad blogs out there (here’s a list which I am graciously thankful for being added to, thank you Resorvoir Dad!). Apart from being heartfelt, honest and hilarious, Tork’s Blog in particular has provided me with validation that it’s ok to Post as Irregularly as Possible (Step 9 in his Bad Blogger series).

“How about, write something when you feel like it, when you are moved to. If that’s every day or every week, great! So long as you love it!” – Torkona

And I am loving it right now. So here’s this post, and Part 3 will come later.

I’ve been drowning in poo and wee.

Let me explain with simple mathematics. Based on my two different-aged sons having different nappy replacement rates (minimum 6/day and 12/day), we go through around 18 nappies a day, a combination of two sizes. That fills up, visually, 3/4 of a 20L Kmart pedal bin. Over a (30-day) month that’s:

30 Days x ( 20L x 3/4 ) = 450L

A quick Google search for average bathtub capacity yielded results between 140L and 200L, so I’ll use the average of 170L.

450L Nappies / 170L Capacity = 2.65 Tubs

Could you drown in it? The maths don’t lie! In theory, it is possible to drown in wee and poo (indirectly, or at least suffocated by the aroma). This is why maths is fun, kids; using precious cognitive ability to find the solutions to questions that nobody asked.

I discovered (and subsequently coined) the vomit butterfly effect.

I’d like to introduce to you a side of parenting unexplored or unbeknownst to most; a concept or idea if you will. The Vomit Butterfly Effect! Sure you’re familiar with the original concept, but applied to the act of baby vomiting; the chaos that ensues has not, to the best of my limited knowledge, been documented by a Gen Y dad guy.

Example: Happy baby and daddy in the early hours of the morning. Burping over shoulder causes epic vomit explosion. Baby is happy, however baby and daddy’s clothes are soiled. 4-5 square metres of hallway are decimated. Now the butterfly effect: the clothes need to be soaked and washed (1-10 min or thrown with next load of washing), baby and daddy need a bath 5-10 min), the hallway needs to be cleaned and steam mopped (10-20mins as daddy is a detailing enthusiast). But here’s the kicker: where to start? I implore you to reflect on the multitude of items that now need to be taken care of, because after they’re done, daddy will not be able to sleep before having to wake up to get ready for work. Lack of sleep requires catching up on said sleep during the bus ride to work. Daddy now looks like an idiot leaning from the window to the poor passenger next to him and back, at the mercy of inertia.

Konami Code

Direction of sleeping daddy as outlined above.

Coffee required to prevent microsleeps while coding HTML costs $3.50. Spilling said coffee on light blue shirt takes another 10-15 mins to clean up, after spending the entire day hiding from co-workers. It could have been a very different day.

Apologies if over the last few minutes I’ve just destroyed your appetite. Or freaked you non-parents out about parenting. Apologies for any offence or Vomit Butterfly Effects™ I have caused. Maybe I should have just prefaced the last two posts with The Scary Door.

I’ve been playing with Lego. With my son. Yes… with my son.

Lego is so undeniably awesome. Our eldest son got a couple of boxes of Lego Duplo for his first birthday, and he’s been having a blast building stuff on his own. He loves building the tallest tower he can with 2×2 blocks, only to knock it over and smash it to pieces while laughing like King Kong after winning the giant banana lottery. Both Mrs Cbay and I are keen Lego heads too, so much so that I proposed to her using Lego.

Lego heart for Mrs Cbay

The ring was NOT made of Lego. The flowers may have been, though.

After recently watching the Megafactories episode about Lego, we’ve become even more addicted to building with these timeless and ageless toys. Sometimes our son gets his turn too.

I’ve been listening and dancing to Yo Gabba Gabba.

Seriously, what other show can get you grooving to a reggae song about bananas?

Listening and dancing to music is AWESOOOOOMEEEEE.

My parental leave is over and I’ve gone back to full time work.

Somehow I feel that it’s harder to go back to work after the birth of our second son. An extra person to be away from makes it that much harder for me to go to work. I love my family, and as hectic as it can get sometimes with two children under two, I can’t wait to get home every day so I can marvel at my sons’ growth. I love coming home to chase Cbaby 1 around, and watching Cbaby 2 learn how to smile. And of course to hang out with the beautiful Mrs Cbay 🙂 It’s an amazing feeling to be there with my sons as they explore and learn new things. Watching them grow and change day by day is truly a blessing.


Have my excuses allowed me pardon for my lateness and lack of blogging? Sure, I wasn’t off fighting ninjas in a snowy mountain temple, or traveling forward in time a thousand years into the future. However, I’ve been through some wacky adventures lately, having my endurance, wits and resolve endlessly tested. I’m on the epic journey most commonly known as parenting.