Parenthood is HARD

I had always laughed when I heard that parenthood is ‘the hardest job in the world’. Had they forgotten about crab fishermen? About the guy that cleans the dog shit bins? Or the Playboy bunny girls? Servicing a man of that age on a regular basis must be truly gruelling! Well, I’m now seeing the point they were trying to make. It’s HARD!

My back hurts, I’m constantly tired and my memory has hit true goldfish levels. Before Joshua, my nightly routine would be …

1. Get off the train

2. Remove trousers and shirt and replace them with shorts and a T-Shirt (irrespective of the weather outside)

3. Sit on the sofa until bedtime

Strenuous I know!

Things are different nowadays, oh yes. When I walk in the door at home it’s like I’ve been dropped into a war-torn country and given no information. First of all, I find cover, normally in the hallway while I assess the situation. The natives (in this case the Mrs) look like they haven’t slept in months and look extremely PISSED OFF. I try to establish a degree of communication but it’s useless. I eventually manage to establish that some kind of stranger that cannot be appeased has been making excruciating ear-piercing shrieks all day. Despite the native’s best efforts, the stranger hasn’t slept a wink and seems intent on causing ear aches and excessive neighbour anger (that’s for another post). I go in! I find the culprit immediately. He’s holding a rubber giraffe hostage and chewing the head off of a fury hippo. He must be some kind of monster!

Ok, so I may have overly dramatised the situation somewhat but at times Joshua is very much like the T800.

It can’t be bargained with. It can’t be reasoned with. It doesn’t feel pity, or remorse, or fear. And it absolutely will not stop, ever, until you are dead

….or just really exhausted.

Seriously though, Joshua is absolutely perfect bar for 2 minor things. He resists sleep like someone on A Nightmare on Elm Street and gets bored incredibly easily. The pair of us are continually looking for ways to entertain him. We’ll try the following in the hope we won’t hear the dreaded monotonous grizzle or even worse.

1. Read to him
2. Play the guitar for him
3. Work through an extensive list of silly voices
4. Juggle for him
5. Play with him and his toys
6. Go for a walk
7. Bath him
8. Please provide options here

Already, despite our best intentions, he’s noticed the big 40″ colourful thing in the corner of the room. I’ve always said ‘my kids won’t watch television’ but already we’re using it to give us some sort of rest bite.

Now for the gay part (Bob you may wish to move on to Lobster Tube). Despite all of this he’ll give you something. Just a little something that will absolutely melt your heart. He’s got such a cheeky little grin that whenever he pulls it you turn to jelly. You could be on his 4th change of clothes after a particularly traumatic piss, shit and vomit incident. Yet the smile would come out and all is forgotten!

We’ve even got a little act going. So far we’ve pulled the woman in Tescos, the florist and a barmaid at our local. The play involves shoving Joshua under the nose of the intended victim. He always smiles at people he doesn’t know. ‘Wow, he just smiled at me’ she would say as her legs go bandy. ‘Really? he doesn’t normally smile at anyone. He must really like you!’ Bosh!! Putty in my hands!! If only his mother wasn’t standing right next to me.

The smile has more recently extended to a giggle which has cranked things up even further.

Being a father has opened up all sorts of emotions I never knew I had. I love the Mrs to bits but the love for a child is something that’s impossible to put into words. Nothing’s about you or her anymore, it’s about him. And it feels right. It feels natural. It feels like the thing that’s been missing from your life.