World’s Greatest Dad?…World’s Biggest Heel

It was a day I hoped would never come.

I’ve prided myself on being the cool calm collected one.

A dad so cool, the sun needs a sweater when it shines on me!

The dad who flows like water, who bends in the wind, goes with the flow and smells like teenspirit. (Wait…is that a cologne? I have no idea).

The kind of dad who exists only in family sitcoms. Loves his family, does crazy and outlandish things, quick with the funny remarks, dishes out sage worldly advice and never…ever…EVER…raises his voice in anger.

The kind of dad where Zen is my friend and karma is my confidanteė…

So, what went wrong?

To put it simply…

Daddy growled at me 😦

And boy, do I feel like the World’s Biggest Heel.

What would Chuck Norris do? Or better yet, what would Bill Cosby, Mike Brady or Alex P Keaton’s Dad, do?

Here’s the scene:

Baby’s so tired, he can hardly keep his little red eyes open, BUT…won’t have a bar of sleeping. Daddy Cool tries for 40 minutes to settle him off to sleep, all in vain. Baby then has poopy nappy. DC needs to change it and D-scovers a HUGE deposit in his Access account. Baby is still not happy and squirms all over the change table like a ninja playing laser-tag and as Daddy struggles with a handful of poop up to his elbow in one hand, baby decides to…crocodile death roll in his own poop and almost Nadia Comeneci it over the edge of the change table. At which point, Daddy Cool snapped…


Indy froze and stared at me like a deer in headlights. His face, red with anguish and upset, eyes on the brink of dam-busting through glistening tears. He didn’t move a muscle and I could finish cleaning him up without a fuss.

And, I felt…ashamed and terrible.

Memories of me running into the middle of an argument between my parents and yelling out, “STOP IT!”, came suddenly flowing in.

And I can only imagine how he must have felt. The one man he relies on for laughs and tickles, for story book voices, for songs in the bath and whispers in his ears, suddenly went BOOM!

I cuddled him tight and apologised profusely. He seemed to accept it, but I feel like I dug a hole in my heart. I know he forgives me, but can I forgive myself?





The Notso-Fast Weekend Getaway

Easter is synonymous for many things. Eggs, chocolate, rabbits, men with beards, hot cross buns, walking zombies and of course…traffic.

So, with that in mind, we decided to get a head start on the weekend and leave for Oma & Opa’s (a marathon 4.5hr drive interstate), on Thursday afternoon. That way, we hoped to avoid hirsute men of all descriptions and while Mumma packed the bags, I packed the car.

Cramming the last of the contents of a small European nation into our matchbox sized sedan (does he really need more than 1200 changes of clothes?) The “eye-roll” suggests, “yes”, the scowl suggests, “just keep packing and shut the hell up”.

Packing Indy into the car, Mumma asks, “Got everything?”
“I think so.” Good, and as the final clip on Indy’s car seat clicks into place, I have to duck back in the house for a quick pit stop before we leave. Except that…

“Uh, honey? You locked the door.”

“Yeah, you said you had everything. We’re ready to go.”
“I don’t have my keys.”
“You’re joking, right?”
“No…they’re still inside, on the bench.”

The second hand on my watch stops. Time stands still. Not a sound is heard. Just complete and utter silence (somewhere in the woods, a tree falls)

Insert raucous LAUGHTER.

Panic-laughter-panic-panic-more laughter.

After unsuccessfully picking the lock with my cricket bat, at 4:23pm, we rang the real estate. They had a spare key, but we had to get there by 5:30pm when they close for the Easter weekend and reopen on Tuesday. Thankfully, Mumma’s sister lives nearby and saw our smoke signal for help. I borrowed her car and drove off for the key, while Mumma pulled Indy out of the car and played with him on a rug in the garage until my return.

We can only imagine what went on in his mind…

“That’s the weirdest car trip I’ve ever had. You buckle me in, we sit in the garage, then you buckle me out. Bloody car-tease. Make up your mind, for god’s sake.”

However, our one hour delay saw us drive passed the aftermath of three major collisions on the freeway, all within a kilometre of each other. If we’d left on time, we might have been right in the thick of it. Maybe a bearded man was keeping an eye on us after all?

Happy Easter, everyone!!

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He Slimed Me…

If you’re a fan of the movie, Ghostbusters, then you will no doubt remember the scene when Egon and Ray stumble upon Peter Venkman, writhing on the floor in a glistening wet pool of ectoplasm following his first encounter with a real ghost, and uttered those inimitable and prophetic words…

“He slimed me…”

I say, prophetic, because fast forward to today, my official first day as Stay-At-Home Dad after Mumma returned to work today, and as I just finished giving my son his mid-morning bottle of “Chard-o-mamma”, I found myself uttering that exact same phrase.

A few mls short of finishing off the bottle, he turned his face away in the same way you can’t look at the screen whenever Tori Spelling comes on the TV. I asked him if he needed to burp, and as I placed him upright in my lap, it sounded like he’d just released The Kraken.

A split second later, we met the Kraken. In the form of a projectile vomit that awarded him the gold medal at the Exorcist Olympics. And as we sat there, dripping from head to foot, we splutteringly looked at each other in disbelief.

“Oh my god, are you okay? What did you just…”

But before I could finish my sentence, he turned to me straight in the face as if to say,

“In case you missed it the first time…BLUUUUURGH!!”

Gunned down by torpedo number 2, like a rioter blasted by a water cannon.

Our shocked blinking eyes, the only thing visible from beneath a symbiotic pool of dripping ectoplasm. I held my son in outstretched hands and immediately thought of Dr. Venkman.

So, that was my baptism into my first day as a Stay-At-Home Dad. The how and why it happened, I can only surmise that maybe…(just maybe)…he might have drank too much milk, too quickly?

I dunno. Is 2 gallons too much for a 6 month old? It seems just enough to get my car from the garage to the letterbox.

I guess, being a Dad means to expect the unexpected, and anything short of a giant Stay Puffed Marshmallow Man breaking down the house, anything strange in my neighbourhood, I know exactly who I’m gonna call…



Stupid Newton

On this day in 1666, Bert Newton’s younger brother, Sir Isaac Newton, discovered gravity when an apple fell on his head. (Okay, it might not have been this day exactly, but it certainly has a Wednesday “feel” about it). And subsequently, devised the theory of gravity that…

“What goes up…must come down.”

Obviously, Newton was not a father. Because if he knew anything at all about babies, then he should know the opposite is true…

“What goes down…almost always, at some point…must come back up!”

And so it was, that today, Indy discovered that Newton…

Was full of sh*t.

It’s hard to keep a good man down…even harder to keep down a belly full of milk. Today was a first for us, when Indy discovered that not only can you spew your hard earned sustenance all down the front of your clothes, but you can also do it…

Through your NOSE…

And he did not like it…at all.

But the look on his face was priceless. I’m not sure if you’ve ever seen a 5 month old baby look at you like, “What the hell was that? How did that even happen?” But it’s the same face you have when you hear the phrase, “Big Brother returns for another season” or “Jessica Simpson wins Academy Award”.

And for both of us, we learned two very important lessons…

DO NOT: drink your milk down like it’s going out of fashion.
DO NOT: play the “Sit down, Stand up” game directly following said fashion statement.

Stupid Daddy…Stupid Newton.

Indy Newton

Bath Time

There’s something very spiritual about holding your newborn son in the palm of your hands and watching him melt between your fingers, like a Kit-Kat on a sunny day, as you wash the warm sudsy water across his tiny soapy body. That spiritual bond I felt when his eyes first opened, embraced me again like a soft warm blanket thrown lovingly round my shoulders.

He looks into my eyes as if to say…

“This is the greatest thing I’ve experienced on tour, so far.”

And the feeling is mutual.

This is definitely a “Daddy Moment”. Caring and nurturing the most precious life in your hands, and he places complete love and trust in yours.

And that unspeakable bond has taught myself an incredibly valuable lesson

Dad Mishap #2…

When you’re washing your son’s little bottom in the bath, if his bottom is OUT of the water…
it means…his head is definitely IN it.

And when I say, unspeakable…I mean, (let’s never speak of this incident, ever again…ever).

Might have to get a reminder tattoo on the back of his head that reads…

This End Up!

But all was forgiven and forgotten in the blink of an eye, as Super Dad rubbed his cares away with a luxurious baby body massage, that could have easily had Indy oozing down the change table, as water drains down a plug-hole.

And as I rubbed his tiny shoulders and cooed gently in his ear, he lifted his head ever so gently…and in his tiny sleepy eyes I see…

Less with the noise, please…as he palms me another fiver.

Uh-oh, I can feel it happening already…I’m starting to feel like…

…a Dad 🙂

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Getting to Know You

Nothing can quite prepare you for your first encounter with your child. I really didn’t expect to be so attached to him. I kind of expected the feeling would be the same as when I meet other people’s kids…

You know, they’re fun and interesting…now, who’s for Cribbage…anyone?

But I can’t explain the change that occurs when he opens his eyes for the very first time and you lock eyes for…one minute. His tiny deep blue eyes scanning your face, peering deep into your soul. It touches you in a way that doesn’t require Investigative Journalism. Instead, it bonds you for life. Like Superglue and Araldite(I loved their show in Vegas, btw).

And there’s no greater bonding experience between a man and his son, that makes you feel like…the worst dad on the planet, than when you’re changing his little nappy. And as you clear away his troubles, he looks up at you with the purest of love and trust that would melt Wolverine’s Adamantium claws. You turn to reach for a clean nappy…and that’s when the screams begin…you turn back with horror to see little Indy…

Peeing on his own face!

It makes your heart sink, and makes you want to run crying from the room like a school girl. But you have to suck it up “Mary-Ellen” (your nerve, that is…not the pee. Use a cloth for that…and wash your hands afterwards), because you’ve got to rebuild that bridge of trust. The one bonded by Superglue, which apparently can lift a one-tonne sedan with only 7 drops (I saw it on Mythbusters), yet, completely disintegrates under the influence of baby urinego figure?

Chalk that up to DAD MISHAPS #1.

And as for his first bath? Well, he takes to water like Katie Holmes to Scientology. Didn’t take long before he wanted OUT, OUT, OUT!!!

But still, I have to admit that I have grave fears that my wife may now “Indy-ed” be…

In love with another man!

And although it pains me to admit it, but

So am I 🙂