Swimming babies and poo in the pool

Pork Chop is currently sitting on the floor tearing Sunday's newspapers to shreds. She is now covered in black ink which makes it look like she is severely bruised and social services need to be called at once. I hasten to add THEY DON'T, IT IS JUST INK. Having social services poke their sticky beaks into my life one day in the future because Pork Chop might have got a small bruise from falling over is a constant irrational fear of mine. I suspect it doesn't help when there are so many stories in the media of parents losing their children because of over zealous so-called childcare experts.

Anyway, I digress as that wasn't really the point of this post. Yesterday we took Pork Chop for an underwater baby shoot. Before anyone reacts in horror she has been doing Little Dipper classes for ages, absolutely loves it and is probably more confident in the water than Nemo. Had an argument with The Other Half before we left over Huggies Swim Pants which went something like this:

Me: "Damn, have run out of swim pants. Need to go and get some."

Him sitting on sofa doing fuck all while I try to dress Pork Chop, feed her, dress myself, feed me, make beds and unload dishwasher: "Well stop eating your bloody toast and go and get some or we will be late."

Me: "There is no need to shout, I've been busy getting your daughter fed and ready. You know you can be very mean sometimes."

Him: "That's just nasty, I'm not mean. Listen to you nagging all the time. I'm just trying to help. Go get the pants from Boots and I'll look after Pork Chop or we WILL be late."

Me: "Fine whatever." (fucking bastard)

Him: "Fine whatever." (stropy fucking bitch)

So I rushed to Boots for the swim pants. Boots didn't open until 11am so I stood there with several other mums and stampeded the door as soon as it was unlocked. I then ran, yes ran, all the way up a very steep hill home and we still managed to arrive at the shoot 20 minutes early only to be told we didn't need to put them in swim pants as they looked bulky and spoilt the lines in the photos.

Suffice to say, swim pants or not, Pork Chop loved it. However, it does slightly concern me that they don't wear pants. Within five minutes we were told to "evacuate" the pool because one of the little darlings had had a big shit. Pork Chop also burped and threw up a little milk which landed in the pool before I had time to blink. I surreptitiously splashed the water a bit to disguise it and watched guilty as the little white bits sunk below the surface, no doubt obscuring the camera somewhat. And there is also the huge numbers of wees they must all be doing in there as well.

Five babies per session, roughly eight sessions - that equals a lot of wee.