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 confidanteÄ—…

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…

STOP IT!

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?

Hopefully…

image

 

Advertisements

Santa’s Li’l Helper

Waking up to the sounds of a giggling child, I’m reminded that I really should change my alarm ring tone to something a little more grown-up. And as I hit the snooze and roll over to be greeted by the warm comfort of baby sick down my front, I’m also reminded that I really should shower and change my shirt before coming to bed of an evening.

But amid the fabricated exploits of this morning’s misadventures, I can’t help but feel there’s a certain sense of excited anticipation about this morning that I haven’t experienced since my wedding night, and before that…when I was a kid. If only I could put my finger on exactly what it is…oh, wait. I know what it is. It must be…

Christmas Morning!!

And the reason for my heightened level of excitement, is of course, the fact that this is…

Indy’s First Christmas…

And our first Christmas…as a family.

And although he’s not quite 6 months old, his gung-ho-ho-ho attitude to tear open presents, feign real surprise, stuff anything he can into his gob (Christmas paper, tinsel, boobs, penguins) anything that is, except actual food (still can’t quite manage to master that, quite yet), not to mention allowing himself to be dressed in the shrinky-dink Santa style outfit suitable of the Festive Season, with such vigour and gay abandon, that I’m reminded a third time, about how great Christmas is when you’re a kid.

And everything kind of goes hazy and wobbly as I remember back to when Michael J Fox came downstairs in his APK monogrammed bathrobe on Christmas morn…(wait…wrong flash-back…that was Family Ties!) When I was a kid and my parents would sprinkle naphthalene flakes on the ground and tell us they were dried snow-flakes, scratch marks on the driveway where Santa’s sleigh had landed, asbestos cookies with a glass of milk…ahh, those were the days. And I can only imagine the enormous pleasure of watching us tear our presents open with as much excitement and fervour as Kirsty Alley devouring a Twinkie.

And watching our Li’l Santa spread joy to the faces of our friends, family and work colleagues as they’re engulfed in his broad Christmas smile, I watched his face transform with a sense of awe and wonder as we paraded him through the Christmas light displays of the Christmas Kingdom warehouse (post Christmas), like he was a tiny Christmas elf experiencing his own private Disneyland. That look was enough to melt Frosty’s heart and makes me look forward to all the years ahead of making every Christmas for our boy seem like…

Well…Christmas!

This slideshow requires JavaScript.