Only 1 day to go…
Only 1 day to go…
From the moment he was conceived, we knew this day would come. I wasn’t sure if his 3 and a half year old mind could handle the concept but I couldn’t wait any longer. To hell with the consequences. Time to man up and hit this thing head on. Sit down son, I’m about to blow your tiny mind…it’s time you discovered the answer to ‘Where did I come from?’
We sat down together and pushed PLAY on the remote. The PARAMOUNT PICTURES logo on the screen dissolves into a real life mountain and the life-affecting title appears…
RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK
I hold my tongue and my breath in eager anticipation of the question I know is about to come…
‘Who dat man in the hat, Daddy?’
And as the silhouetted figure on screen whips a gun right out of a bad guy’s hand with a stinging crack of blinding accuracy, he steps into the light and we see his face for the very first time…‘THAT my boy, is the man you are named after. THAT, is…INDIANA JONES, Dr Henry Jones Jr. His friends call him INDY and it’s time you found out exactly who he is.’
The next hour and a half was one of the most delightful experiences of my whole parenting journey. Getting to watch Indiana Jones in action through the eyes of my son and seeing him feel as much affinity for that character as I did in my own childhood. He laughed and yelled at the screen and knowing full well he couldn’t sit through the whole thing, we forwarded through the plot developing scenes and focused on the action. He’ll enjoy them just as much when he watches it again when he’s older. It was also my job to cover his eyes during the scary moments, a job that was monitored very carefully by my boy who would yell out, ‘Cover my eyes! Cover my eyes!’ at the slightest hint of any atmospheric musical changes. Still surprises me that he didn’t just cover them himself with his own hands, but that’s why I’m the Dad, I guess? (more…)
Seeing our kids grow into little beings, I think back to the days when we couldn’t wait for them to start talking and now that those days have arrived, I wish to god for some SILENCE.
The days of sleeping in are as extinct as the dinosaurs. Even when we take it in turns to crawl out and sprawl one-eyed on the couch, drawing the little critters toward us and away from the bedroom like a human mozzie-zapper, so the other one can get 10 seconds of extra sleep. The screaming, yelling, laughing and crying penetrates the walls and drills into your semi-conscious brain like an incessant woodpecker. And then there’s the noise from the kids.
But now that they’ve found their voices, the questions are coming thick and fast. Not since the advent of TV game show Sale of the Century, has anyone been drilled incessantly with questions by a pint-sized ‘Tony Barber’ (or is that, actual size?). I always knew this day was coming and I felt I was more than ready for it, but I completely underestimated the stamina of a 3 year old’s ability to ask the same question over and over before I went insane.
The FBI and KGB have nothing on a 3 year old and the Chinese water torture is but a drop in the tsunami of banal questioning that’s washed over us on a daily basis.
I’m a product of the X-generation but this kid is definitely… (more…)
Being a Dad is pretty awesome and there’s always a lot of advice and tips that people are always willing to give a first time Daddy-to-be. But there’s quite a few things that nobody ever told me about being a Dad which would have been handy to know in the beginning to properly prepare and psych myself for.
So I’ve compiled a short list of things I’ve discovered myself and am willing to share with any Daddy newbies out there.
Here’s a quick list of 5 things nobody tells you about being a Dad:
The only thing worse than hearing fingernails on a blackboard is having your cheeks, eyelids, lips and nostrils shredded to pieces by tiny razor-like Kruegeresque knives forged in the belly of a dragon at the bottom of a volcano.
Even though babies come into this world vulnerable and defenceless, it only takes a few months before their inherent self-defence ninja skills come to the fore. They may look incredibly cute and adorable lying in your arms as you gently rock them to sleep, but they can incapacitate an elephant simply by totally pinching the sh*t out of the skin on your neck with the strength and accuracy of a Vulcan warrior. (more…)
For a couple weeks now our boy has been exhibiting great strides in independence. Wanting to do many things on his own like climbing the playground equipment, taking himself to the potty or trading blue chip shares on Wall Street.
But today at 3 years and 15 days, our little boy surprised us both when for the very first time in his life he sidled up to my side of the bed at 6:47am to announce…
“Me dress myself!”
A feat even some adults find difficult to accomplish, especially at 6:47am on a Monday. And when my bleary eyes failed me, my hands ran across him in the darkness like a brail Detective novel. Confirming that yes, he’d managed to Houdini his way out of the zip-up onesie, singlet and pull-up he went to bed in and was now wearing jocks, tracky-dacks, a t-shirt and a long-sleeve top. Mind you, the t-shirt was inside out and his right arm was twisted inside the sleeve of his top like an anaconda in a burlap sack, but the evidence was clear. He’d managed it all on his own.
My immediate thrill then turned to despair as I realised my boy is growing up and every day, requires our assistance less and less. And in my moment of self-pity, a sudden thought struck me, ‘Did you have a poo in your pull-ups?’ (more…)
Last week we received a little goody-box from IGA. When I say little, it’s definitely big enough to fit a 2 year old child inside and ship him off to Europe if the screaming doesn’t stop, and it was chock full of lovely little items to help make this years Mothers Day, a special one.
It’s the first Mothers Day Mumma has ever had with both our kids so it was going to be special anyhow, but getting Indy cracking in the kitchen was an excited bonus.
Inside the box was a delicious assortment of ingredients and recipe, for mouth-watering…
Apple Compote Pancakes
Which did raise an eyebrow or two til I discovered I was mixing up compote with Capote, which was not quite as weird as I first thought if you consider Truman Capote did in fact write the novella, Breakfast at Tiffany’s, so at least we’re in the same broad area. (Who’d have thought I could be informative as well as educational?).
Plus, there were other things inside to give our Mothers Day breakfast-in-bed concoction, a little more pizazz…A tiny jar of Pizazz! I’m kidding, I don’t even know what that would be. In reality, there was was a heart-shaped cookie cutter to get our pancakes into the right shape, a beautiful napkin and napkin ring, a floral arrangement in a tiny beer stubbie and a functional tray to carry it all in on.
And the cutest item of all, was the tiniest apron I’ve ever seen. Just right for a two year old and certainly got our little lad into the Master Chef vibe as he hollered instructions and ordered me and my standards around in true Gordon Ramsay style.
As you can see from the pics, he had a wonderful time and was very proud of the final presentation. (more…)
The day had finally arrived. The one I’d been looking forward to for the last two and a half years. The day I could finally breath a great sigh of relief that I would never again have to change another wet or smelly diaper. Let the ceremonial burning of the nappy begin.
Freedom and liberation for all! The time had come…
Indy went on the potty…HOORAY!
He also went on the carpet, the tiles, in front of the fridge, under the table, on the couch, behind the couch, over the heat vent in someone else’s house, in his pants, on my pants, in his bed and on his bed. Though never in a sneaky I shouldn’t be doing this fashion, but always with bold confidence and a spring in his step. Mind you, that could just be the mandatory shaking of the last drops. Which only leads to one conclusion… (more…)
If there was ever a Christmas we were eagerly excited and scared about, it was this one. Reasons being, this is the first Christmas where Indy could actually grasp hold of the concepts of Santa, good boys and girls, and of course…presents. The scary part being, it’s also the same Christmas we’re teaching our boy about ‘giving’ as well as receiving and we discussed the idea of giving his dummy to Santa.
A conversation that was well supported by Santa and the helpful elves at PNP Portable North Pole, which if you haven’t gotten onto it yet, it’s an amazing service that provides custom videos and phone calls from Santa himself, direct from the North Pole in preparation for the big night. You can upload photos and input information and Santa talks directly to you by name, and in our case, Santa told Indy that he hoped he could stop using his dummy and that he will bring him a new bike for Christmas.
We played that video every day and each time, Indy would get excited and tell us he would give his dummy to Santa and that Santa would give him a bike. It was very cute and exciting to watch. But when push came to shove, would he actually be able to part with his ‘bwue duddy’ when the time came? It’s been his security for the term of his entire life! Almost like giving up a limb, I expect?
Santa paid the family a visit on Christmas Eve and two things shocked us immediately. First of all, straight up without even uttering a single word from Santa, as soon as he approached, Indy looked quizzically at him then excitedly exclaimed… (more…)