Lack of adventures in babysitting

So, last night was the big babysitting evening.
I was cool, it had been a while, but I'd done this before. Many, many times.

A bit of background.
I come from a family of breeders. A group of people so f*&%ing fertile that pregnancy is the only successful form of contraception they know.

Youngest of 8 brothers and sisters, I have 18 nieces and nephews. 13 of these I have looked after for extended periods over the years before I moved here.

Anyway, we walked into the victim's living room to see Daddy holding the 7 month old angel. She took one look at me, her face inverted, and she started bawling.

Yep, I still had it.

I soon learned how to adjust her volume based on how close I stood to her, and after a half hour or so she was in my arms and NOT having a seizure.

Progress.

With this, Mammy & Daddy buggered off.

There we were, ET and myself, making ridiculous sounds in the direction of this 'person'. A person who had absolutely no interest in me whatsoever.

I confidently put this down to the same reason every other Dutch woman has no interest in me, there was obviously something very wrong with her.

So there I sat on the sofa with this thing on my lap.
She tugged and pulled at a variety of vulgar coloured toys that frankly did nothing for the living room. While quite engrossed in this mind numbing activity, she would occasionally peer her big browns in my general direction, and scowl.

Now, this is where I started to wonder if there wasn't something significantly wrong with her.

Mommy & Daddy bloggers out there, hold your cherished spawn close, for what I'm about to tell you will surely chill your blood.

She didn't do one single blogworthy thing.

She didn't make one wisecrack that would have you all suspecting that I'd embellished, she didn't crawl into a flowerpot or the tumble drier or ANY cute photograph worthy position that may make you wonder if I'd staged it, she didn't show signs of knowing beyond her years and ask me how work was going or whether I was worried about getting my 2nd semen analysis result back on Thursday.

Nothing.

I've read all these blogs back to front, so how can this be possible?

I was just about to call social services to report this finding which was most certainly a sign of mistreatment, when she started screaming her adorable little lungs out, which ET informed me signified she wanted feeding.

Seeing as we (I) had decided anything going in or coming out of this sweet heavenly thing was ET's responsibility, I handed her over, all the while wondering how two reasonably entertaining and interesting people could have birthed such an unbloggable cherub.

Fast forwarding through this literary home video, we come to the part where the dear little butterfly wing is again screaming her face off, in my face. Deciding against screaming back in hers, I took to walking her around the room for approximately 10 days.

Having just about decided that I'd had enough of this blogfodderless baby and it's sweet adorable screaming, her parents returned, closely followed by normality.

With our coats on and ready to leave, I pointed out to the doting parents that their first born must surely have some sort of issue that needed urgent attention as she didn't find me in any way entertaining, and couldn't even be bothered to humour me with a gurgle, smile, or any of the cutesy stuff I'd signed up for.

Then, from the safety of her mother's arms the little maggot turned towards me, one little finger in her own mouth and the other pointing right at me, she started.

Her big brown eyes opened wider and she began a long screeching laugh only interrupted by wide gummy smiles, flapping hands, and pronounced nodding blinks.

I may have just grown a fucking ovary.

"And here is the opening to your uterus"

My ears burned red as she said the words, I couldn't move my head, so I just stared at my fingers.

If I turned around I was going to get another eyeful of ET's pink bits winking cheekily at me, and if I looked upwards I was staring at the reflection of her uterine opening in the doctor's display case.

What happened to being asked to step out of the room?
I'm a fairly easy going sort of chap when it comes to such matters, but I don't need to, want to, nor have the ability to stomach having to, watch this Dutch lady use my wife as a glove puppet.

One good thing about this impromptu internal examination during our first meeting with the reproductive specialist, was that she had a good look with an ultrasound, and took smashing pictures of my wife's ovaries, eggs and bladder.
I was tempted to take a copy to pass off to my friends as a 12 week scan just to prove my point that you can't tell what's in those pictures anyway.

'Is that a penis?'
'No, it's a fallopian tube'

I guess these pictures could be used to support our case as potentially fit parents to "fate's department of social services".
'...and here is where it will sleep'.

The long and short of it all, ET is is perfect working order, and its my gammy gonads once again in the spotlight.

Just before she had to climb into the stirrups, we were subjected to the type of questioning that I've only previously had from my buddies after a dozen pints or so.

'Any secret children ?'
'No'

'Do other members of your family have children?'
Oh rub it in why don't you, you hag. 'Yes, I've 18 nieces and nephews'.

'Have you ever had any sexually transmitted diseases?'
'You mean, aside from regret?' I thought to myself. 'No, no diseases'.

'How often do you have sex?'
'Like, with each other or just by myself? because thanks to you lot that's really starting to affect the averages'. Eventually we just explained our various approaches.

'Are you experiencing any emotional issues from not conceiving?'
'Click here, bitch, and you tell me'

ET took over the answering from that point.

Actually, she wasn't a bitch, she was even quite nice, as long as I dismiss the fact she was further inside my wife than I've ever been.
She even took the time to go through my first man milking results, and pointed out, (just as I did, so there) that the lower motility is offset by the high count and good volume.

She awaits my second set of results, later this week.

A quick blood sample (from me) later, we arranged for ET to have some blood drawn later in this cycle, and made a follow up appointment for 4 weeks when we get down to the nitty gritty.

By the time we got to the reception desk, the 4 weeks became 6, so it seems Spencer has enough time for at least one more shot, before I have to open the last thing handed to me today, the information pack on Intra Uterine Insemination.

Fuck me, this IS getting serious...

Arrival

If anything is enough to make me have a 'zaadlozing' right here and now, it's just got to be this.


Now go over there and tell them how spot on they were, while I write up something about seeing the reflection of my wife's uterus opening in a doctor's office cabinet window, and then come back here and tell me how bang on they were.

I need a tissue.