Being a father is tough. Just like being a mother but without the whole giving birth and having kids suck on your tits thing. It’s the most difficult job in the world, they say. It’s the most rewarding job in the world, they say.
What “they” don’t say, is that you’ll make mistakes. Mistakes that will probably result in your kids having to book a therapy session or two. (Besides, it’s not my fault they walked in when I was posing with the Borat bathing suit. Moving on…) What “they” also don’t tell you is how much you’ll end up loving the fruits of your loins. How much you are prepared to sacrifice for the little angels who can suck your wallet dry in one trip to the mall. How much pride and joy they can make you feel, and how nothing else on this blue ball makes any sense without them in your life. Continue reading
Actual footage of Dude’s room
Teenagers are wonderfully skilled at throwing clothes on the floor. If they decide to introduce “the ability to generate piles of clothing” as an Olympic event, all the participants would be between the ages of 13 and 19. Like gymnastics. Even though modern society has invented wonderful ways to keep clothes need and tidy. Useless inventions like coat hangers, shelves, cupboards, organizing compartments and the shirt folders made famous by Sheldon. Not to mention the whole practice of ironing. Continue reading
I’m not a prune. I have used the f-bomb before. Yes, even on this site. I use shit often, at least once a day. It’s a regular thing. I’ll giggle at a dirty joke and if it’s really dark, I might even burst out of laughter and then cover my mouth in shame, especially if Wife’s around. As a rule I tend to avoid r-rated stuff when I’m around my kids, because they’re a… you know, my kids. Continue reading
As parents we fantasize about being alone without the kids…yes we all do it!
Dreaming about having a night off. Experiencing an evening of bliss when we don’t worry or talk or ponder about our kids. Especially if it happens in the midst of the tough parenting stages, which occurs from the time they’re born until you die. Because parents are never NOT parents. Once we take on the role, it turns into a life-time appointment, like a supreme court judge.
The only trouble with fantasizing about having a night off from parenting is that it’s never as great as we imagine it would be.
Having teenagers in my house means my kids have grown into little adults with whom I can have a conversation with. Continue reading
A few weeks ago I posted in the midst of my preparation for an exam and how Dude inspired me to do better and stop complaining about my shit. He showed me what it means to never give up.
The truth is that during his trials and tribulations of trying to make the first rugby team of his high school, he basically sacrificed his own body. Which is how rugby works. Rugby is basically 30 guys wrestling each other for an egg shaped ball. And unlike the wimps across the Atlantic, rugby players do so without any form of protective gear. Wife would argue that the NFL players are intelligent human beings who are not willing to suffer a dilapidated injury in the name of sports. But this is my blog so I can call them what I want. In the words of Yoda: “If sports you want play and padding you must wear, wimps you must be.” Continue reading
Daughters are to fathers as…
That’s it. It’s the perfect analogy for there is nothing to compare the bond between them. It’s unique. A special relationship that evokes a primal urge to protect, nurture, cherish and love. Born from a look that’s filled with admiration, love, belonging and a knowing that he will protect her from anything and everything for the rest of her life.
Unfortunately every father will experience a dreadful day when their little Princess reference another male and gets that same look in her eyes…
It’s like giving birth for fathers. A cold blade piercing your soul. And it’s not that she doesn’t look at you in the same way, it’s just that you have an icy reminder that one of these years you will have to give her away to another man.
And that kind of hurts. And it’s scary. Continue reading
Most of us would agree that a big part of being a parent is to motivate, encourage, support and inspire our kids, especially when life decided to throw a few lemons their way. It’s our duty to make sure they get up again after that bump on the knee. Or the punch on the chin. We run when they fall from the swing and clean up the wound, apply the bandage and wipe their tears. Sending them off with words of encouragement so they can get back on that swing. It’s true what Wife says, “A parent is only as happy as their unhappiest child.”
But there are rare occurrences when the roles of parenthood is reversed. When your kid lifts his mask and reveal a small glimpse of the man (or woman) they are destined to become… Continue reading
Lately I have gained a lot of new followers of which some are trapped in the midst of the stress and anxiety associated with parenting. I’m kidding! Being a parent is the most ungrateful, toughest job in the world. I’m kidding! The money is not good either.
But it’s rewarding. In a don’t-make-me-come-over-there-and slap-the-stupid-out-of-you kind of way.
Then there’s teenagers.
Therefore, a drafted this simply guide for raising teens based on three years of governing my beautiful, darling, little angels through the monster-phase maze into adulthood. Continue reading
To everyone reading this, just bear with me for a second…
Kids, the reference to Audrey is a Venus fly trap with an insatiable hunger for blood as portrayed in the musical “Little Shop of Horrors.” And this was not posted from Wikipedia.
So consider yourself informed because that’s what Fathers do. Now let’s continue…
Audrey was dying until Seymour accidentally discovers the plant needs blood to survive. After that first feeding, the plant starts craving blood and demands more, even murdering a couple of people. The plant turned out to be an alien. Ooooops…Spoiler alert. Continue reading
Embarrassing your kids is a privileged bestowed upon parents in exchange for having to feed them. But it is an art form because you still want them to speak to you every now and again. The aim is not to scar them for life, you merely want to cause moderate, temporary discomfort and show them who’s the boss. You certainly don’t want to be the reason why they take up unhealthy habits like smoking crack, kicking puppies or end up as someone’s bitch in jail.
In days gone by it used to be a simpler activity. Dads could simply lie around on a sofa, watching Friends, wearing your favourite T-shirt resembling the battle ground of a QuarterPounder and a SloppyJoe. Nowadays kids have Facebook and Instagram and they might just post a photo of your protruding belly with a hashtag #OMGlookatmyDad. (And with my luck that post would go viral, unlike my blog or tweets.) Continue reading