I realise I've strayed from the original idea of documenting the trials of late fatherhood, but I'll try and put that right, briefly.
The two main differences between raising Kit and Chloe are that a) I'm a lot older and therefore more knackered and b) Kit's a very active boy and therefore I'm more knackered. And c) I'm just more knackered.
When One I Made Earlier was born, I was a snake-hipped young thing who could bounce back from an all-nighter and cheerfully carry on with a reasonable level of parenthood through the deepest, hairiest hangover and still be ready to get my 80s groove on the next night.
Now, to have any chance of not being an irascible old scrote when Kit wakes up, I have to go to bed shortly before he does.
Some things are the same. The Tube is still blissfully unaware that people have babies and may have to transport them occasionally. (Stairs! Millions of them! With a pushchair, in the 21st century!)
A lot of bars and pubs still loathe anyone with a pushchair. (I'm sorry you'd like to go out for lunch occasionally but unfortunately you bred.)
The UK's pre-school options are still exorbitant, making it difficult for both partners to return to work; and women returning from maternity are still treated like second class citizens with nothing to offer so-you-may-as-well-go-home-and-clean-up-sick, love.
Thankfully there's a massive recession on so there aren’t enough jobs anyway. Huzzah!
Kit is now 1 and starting to show a keen interest in what are traditionally considered "boys toys" – cars, tractors, diggers and the like. Clearly he gets this from his mum. Personally, I loathe the car. I'd like to see all private car ownership banned, except from rural areas, like, say, Oldham, where they are needed for purposes of procreation.
The school run? Yeah, running would be a good idea.
Anyway, Kit loves anything with wheels on and "Car" is one of the half a dozen or so words in his vocabulary, along with "Gog", which means dog and "Transubstantiation", which means religion is a load of made up bollocks.
The only indoctrination I've subjected him to is a Sunday morning ritual where I bounce him on my knee while the theme from Match Of The Day plays. It often leads to a genuine interest in the beautiful game for up to five seconds of the first match. It's all the religion he'll ever need.
While Al Green casts a spell over him that sends him off to sleep, his favourite tune, without doubt - even more beloved than the theme from Rastamouse - is Sidney Bechet's "Blues My Naughty Sweetie Gives To Me". When it comes on, he stops what ever important matter he's attending to and does his little dance, which is just absurdly cute.
I wasn't sure I was ready to go through this again, but it's been an amazing year, full of life-affirming rewards - many of them well-earned. I wouldn't change a thing. Except nappies. You have to change them.
POSTSCRIPT
I'm stopping the blog now Kit has made it to 1 and we're starting to feel human again and hoping to have a life.
The best bits from The Living Dad blog have now been published along with some of my previous online writing in an eBook entitled Lies On Girls for the bargain price of 99p.
This book, a short book to be be honest, is in three parts, with the first containing my dating columns for Channel 4; the second my sex and relationships columns for Living, leading to part three, the consequences of parts 1 and 2: Parenthood.
I'd like to thank friends and strangers alike for reading, from the UK, USA, Australia, Germany, Luxembourg, France, Japan, New Zealand, Canada, Russia, Ukraine, Indonesia, India Belgium, Ireland, Peru, Thailand, Bosnia & Herzegovina and Uganda.
May all your problems be little ones…
I'm going to miss your hilarious and embarrassing little blog Mr R. Perhaps you should consider further procreation so you can add a few new chapters.
ReplyDeleteAnd what on earth does Kit have on his head? It looks like a case of child abuse and I shall be contacting Social Services anon.
My regards to your better half.
Big Softy.