The five stages of a Paw Patrol Netflix binge

Image may contain: one or more people, people sitting and screen

1. Denial
I will just put a few episodes on so I can get on with my jobs/ go to the toilet in peace. (Message of "Are you still there?" pops up three times.)
I can tune it out whilst I work. I will not get the theme tune stuck in my head. "Paw Patrol... Paw Patrol..." oh crap.

2. Scrutiny
You begin asking yourself...
How much must the vet bills be for all those dogs and how does a teenager afford them?
What product does Ryder use in his hair?
Why am I strangely attracted to Mr Porter and why does he remind me of Paul Hollywood?
How much is the Council Tax if dogs are the emergency services?
Should we get Captin Turbot on Tinder he seems to spend way too much time with the walrus for my liking.
Do they clean up their own poo?
One girl dog.... 5 boy dogs... you do the math.

3. Guilt.
Jesus the plot lines are awful why am I letting my kid watch this? It cannot be good for him especially when he has begun answering everyday questions with phrases and lines from the show. I asked him if he needed a wee and he told me Chase is on the case, that's all well and good but your arse is not on the toilet seat kiddo.

4. Sofa dweller.
Things have been quiet for some time. A coffee has been inhaled, leftover toddler breakfast consumed and you should really be getting on with cleaning the house. But you must find out if they can save the Mayor's creepy handbag chicken. (Of course they bloody do, although I am pretty sure in real life those dogs would rip it apart, just saying). You realise that you have been sitting on the sofa watching this for more than an hour. Human one isn't even in the room anymore he buggered off 20 mins ago.

5. Acceptance
The epsiodes are longer than most it has given me some time (to have a poo on my own.) The kid is quiet and Pup Pup Boogie is quite catchy.

Same time tomorrow Netflix?

Comments

The time Fajita night resulted in having a baby in a bath.

The newest Cockerill Do you all remember my ever so optimistic natural birth plan? You can read it here. However, spoiler alert, it didn’t happen. What did happen was something no one was expecting. Wednesday the 5 th July… a mundane sort of day spent cleaning the house and doing the weekly shop. With Greg going back to work the next day I was determined to make sure everything was ready for when this baby arrived! I was three days off my due date and still hadn’t had one single sign this baby was imminently coming. I had been receiving messages from quite a few people asking if baby was here yet. I was getting fed up as everything I had tried to induce labour failed miserably and every morning for the last two weeks I woke up disappointed I wasn’t in labour! I gave up, walking didn’t help, pineapple made me sick and I was beginning to tire of the raspberry leaf tea. This baby was staying put. In the evening I put Elijah bed, and we began to settle down for the eveni...

#bigkidsforgosh

I am sitting on the sofa with C Beebies blasting out and I look to my right, I feel a little hand grab mine. Elijah looks up at me and says, ‘Mummy’. This is one of those things that happens about a hundred times a day, but now and again I really take stock of them. I sweep his fringe out of his eyes and give him a little hug. There was a time that I may not have ever been able to do this. To be able to raise my (nearly) two-year-old as a normal, happy and healthy little boy. He may not have even be here at all. I am only able to do this because of Great Ormond Street Hospital. After Elijah’s diagnosis of Tetralogy of Fallot at birth, after his admission to NICU we had always known he needed open heart surgery to repair his heart. To put it simply, to save his life. Being a mother to Elijah means everything to me. GOSH saved my family. It was scheduled to be around the 6 month of age mark that he would have this surgery, from the latest consultant appointment a...

The one with Elijah's heart surgery.

We were back. April 22-28 2015, a year ago this weekend. In just two short weeks since we last went down to London. We had to go down the day before and check in and have another blood test. As all of the forms had been signed last time, we were out again within an hour or so. Back to the same family accommodation, in a different room and with a lot less luggage. Something felt different this time, although I didn't want to believe it was going ahead in the event it was cancelled again, deep down I knew it would be. The morning of the surgery I knew how I would feel as we had been through this all before. I didn't want to go out for a meal so we ate in the hotel room watching ch5 rubbish after Elijah went down in the travel cot. Its odd that through the whole pre admission, cancelled op and the actual operation I can remember what shit we watched on TV and what we ate for tea that night. One of those weird things that just sticks in your head. Sort of like when you remem...

Vicki Cockerill - NICU MUM Blog

Search This Blog