I’ve always had a fastidious nature and have been cultivating what I am sure will one day blossom into a full-blown OCD. I’ve long since had what I perceive as the sensible habit of checking my pockets every time I move from one place to another.
I’ve also alphabetised our DVDs and proofread text messages before I send. In addition, I only allow the volume on the TV to be tuned to an even number unless it’s a five. There’s nothing weird about any of that now is there?
But lately my neurotic behaviour has gone up a notch. This is because Dylan is now being bottle fed, which requires all the necessary equipment to be sterile. Obviously, the steriliser deals with most of that side of things – it’s not just a clever name – but it’s my input that I worry about. Part of my morning routine involves making his first bottle so it’s ready when he decides to unceremoniously wake up Kate.
Of course, another part of said routine entails getting shower gel, shampoo and face wash on my hands and putting on my battered old shoes among other things. Being the sort who frets, I worry about whether I’m going to transfer any nasties onto the teat of his bottle. So much so, that I’ve developed a hand-scrubbing habit worthy of Lady Macbeth after everything I do.
Still, being fanatical about things regarding his health isn’t necessarily a bad thing. It has come in useful with the current project of baby-proofing the house. He’s starting to make efforts at crawling, so plug sockets have been the priority.
Unfortunately, the people who lived in our house before we did must have had an OCD of their own with regards installing the bloody things. I can imagine them getting up in arms at the prospect of a square metre without access to power. Shame their compulsion didn’t extend to getting the wiring in the kitchen done safely, but that’s another story. I only had three minor shocks, so no real harm was done.
So going back to making the house Dylan proof, we were advised by the health visitor that the best way of discovering dangers is to crawl around on the floor ourselves. As a result, all of the spare sockets are blocked now but, given my latest character trait, the majority of my time has been equally divided between the carpet and the bathroom sink…