I love being a Dad. I’m not brilliant at it by any stretch, I spend too much time down at their level and too much time trying ineffectively bossing them around. Recently I have rather complicit in the pass time of moving the IKEA ladybird to a position where it’s possible to jump off the sofa on to it and bounce on to me. This was great fun but rather naughty and not exactly behaviour that’s becoming of a father. I can’t imagine my dad doing something like that when I was younger. Mind you he did have a beard. Perhaps beards instil a sense of gravitas that I lack.
I wouldn’t not be a dad for anything now I’ve got kids, the idea of waking up and not seeing the boy or Fifi is decidedly odd and I don’t think I’ve spent more than two consecutive nights away from them since they were born. Or hearing them. Yes, hearing them is the first part of the day and in the case of Fifi often what wakes me up. It has at the moment seen a suspension of the kind of stuff I used to get up to to a greater or lesser degree though. Most of it’s down to tiredness, I’m partly surprised that I’ve got the energy to type this now after the usual early Fifi start and a full day at work but it’s more the knowledge that it will be another early start that stops me pulling late nights to read books, watch films or play video games. In many ways it’s a hiatus on adult life but I don’t begrudge it because the kids are only going to be young once. I don’t want to be the sort of dad that packs the kids off to uni, only to realise I’ve avoided the best parts of their childhood.
I don’t know if when the kids are a bit older and sleep longer and do there own thing a bit more that I’m going to have the same interests anyway. I’ve always liked writing, I even have my own writing blog, but the sort of thing I write has changed since I started blogging. Some times now days I even feel like I’ve wasted an evening when I haven’t created something. I’m beginning to resent watching telly as a passive non-constructive pass time because my time sans le petit moi is precious and not to be wasted. Even if relaxing is necessary, I resent the time spent doing it on occasion, despite the constant background of tiredness and minor irritability.
I still like watching football but for the minute at least this isn’t a pass time the boy shares with me. Fifi on the other hand absolutely loves it and the Sunday morning repeat of Match of the Day is our father/daughter bonding session, and it gives an insight into some of the activities that the future has to offer. At the moment too many of my other interests aren’t suitable for kids- even Star Wars is a bit violent for a 3 year old, whilst at the same time not being busy enough for them- but sooner or later they’ll both start either showing a valid interest or poo-pooing my interests. I sort of look forward to that day in a strange way.