Sucks in a get-over-yourself-such-is-life kind of way. They are notoriously difficult to write about because when I do, I end up looking like a slobbering idiot with tears streaming down my face, splashing all over the keyboard, ruining the electronics and causing a short circuit that leaves the whole office building without power for three days. It seems electricity and water does not make a great pair.
Not that I write any posts at work.
Luckily these unfortunate occurrences I’m referring to only happens annually. Like today. 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
A gorgeous girl and a Dad trying to look cool.
I walked down the corridor with gift bags and a cup of coffee. Wife was right behind me carrying a small tray with a mug of hot chocolate and a candlelit cupcake. Dude almost carried himself. Fortunately we have walls that guide him in a straight line to where he has to go. I switched on the light and hidden between layers of duvets and blankets, she appeared with a gorgeous smile on her face.
“Happy birthday to you…” we sang awfully. It was six-o-clock in the morning and it was evident that our ability to carry a simple tune was still asleep.
The day arrived, like it does every year. Continue reading
It’s common knowledge that I refer to my daughter as Princess over here in the blogosphere. Mainly because she is one. My Princess. (I’m hoping infidels are taking notes.) If you were blissfully unaware of this Princess-reality, then I have only one thing to say to you:
Where the f*ck have you been for the last three years? Or rather…
Welcome to my blog, you wonderful person, you. I sincerely appreciate the time you are spending reading this thought provoking blog, where the troubles and struggles of parenting teens, being the best husband and coping with daily life are all hidden between gems of joy and laughter, sprinkled with attempts at humour. Now if only you can press that little follow button in the panel on the right that would be super-dooper-sweet-sugar-coating-with-a-cherry-on-top-special!
Here’s the story of how I ended up with two Princesses in my house. Continue reading
The day has finally arrived. Shit. Shit. Shit.
Our little Princess has reached an age where she’s forced to jump into the cesspool of hormones, commonly known as high school. By the way, may I still call you Princess? What am I saying, I’m your father and I can call you Princess until the day you die. I’ve earned that right after changing numerous soiled nappies and burping you in the middle of the night. O-kay most of that was Mom but I did manage to squeeze in a few parental duties during your formative years, like allowing you to wrap me around your little finger. So you will remain my Princess irrespective of how many years you move away from your birth date.
Back to the shit that happened today… Continue reading
I hate it when people brag on Facebook. Whether it is about the fact that they’ve successfully managed to crack open an egg for the first time in their life or were able to crochet a puppy out of peacock spit. It gets even worse when parents are allowed to brag and flaunt the fact that their brat has just learned how to put his pants on correctly. At age twelve. Or any other life-changing achievement.
With that being said, some things are worth mentioning like if your kid has found a cure for cancer. My gripe are with those parents who considers EVERY RANDOM THING their kids do, to be spectacular and then post it on Facebook. But I’m not one of those parents. I prefer to use my blog when I feel the need to brag about my kids…
Basically because I’m surprised about their achievements. Continue reading
We are in the midst of Eisteddfod season. It’s like Shark week on Discovery. A feeding frenzy, if only for all the parents who are running around like headless chickens trying to prepare their little ones for numerous performances in front of the judges. Our regional Eisteddfod happens every two years and provides a platform for kids to take to the stage in a wide array of performing and other art forms. They receive feedback from people who is nothing like Simon Cowell and walk away feeling like they’ve accomplished something. Unless off course they really suck…
Princess is one of those kids who wants to do everything as long as it happens in front of an audience. Her dream is to become an actress, one that I support wholeheartedly, as she’s been our little drama queen since birth.
Princess is halfway through her list of entries for this year’s Eisteddfod. Continue reading
Tomorrow is going to be tough. Much harder than I thought it would be. It may even bring this grown man to tears. I have to accept the inevitable, grow a pair and fight this urge to bawl uncontrollably. If that doesn’t work I’ll need to find a Kleenex somewhere, just to wipe the tear-splatter and snot from the screen if the screen becomes to blurry and I can’t write anymore.
Because Princess is turning thirteen. OMG.
When you were younger Mom and I always joked about the fact that you were the kind of kid who had four seasons in a day. Waking up in a winter mood and then progress through spring, summer and autumn as the sun was travelling across the blue sky. It was amazing to see how passionate you enjoyed life, squeezing every drop from it, soaking it up like a sponge. You did everything with so much enthusiasm. Laugh, cry, play, work, love. It’s inspirational.
Now that you are older your emotions have leveled out a bit, you’re not as erratic and unpredictable like you were a few years ago. Continue reading
How many ties, socks, handkerchiefs, tools, coffee mugs and pieces of biltong does it take to make a Dad happy? I say this because during this time of year, socks fly of the shelves like flowers in May or chocolates in February. I’m left wondering how much money has been spend on arbitrary gifts since the inception of Father’s day? I reckon if we could convert all those items back to cash and give it to me, I would be able to afford a yacht. And a continent. Not that Fathers don’t appreciate all the mugs and socks and stuff we’ve received over the years. We do. We really do. I especially like those years when I was allowed to pick the gift myself.
You can call me Mister Dad.
I like gifts, but sometimes Dads receive something priceless, something that redefines ‘the best gift ever’ without the giving kid being none the wiser as to what they’ve just done. Continue reading
The Wife and I are blessed with a pigeon pair. A boy and a girl. This presents an opportunity to experience the full range of hormones and mood swings that exist in teenagers of both genders. It’s not as pleasant as it sounds. We have front row seats to observe how men develop and eventually tuck their balls into a gym bag and migrate to Mars, whilst women on the other hand, reach maturity, take their broomsticks and fly to Venus. Seeing our two develop into little adults provides me with a profound understanding on what’s happening in the mind of the Wife. And visa versa. Which is much easier for her, as we all know there’s not that much happening in the mind of man. Other than the obvious sex, sports, friends and beer. Continue reading