DADDY (UN)COOL: The dizzying highs and exhausting lows of parenting two little girls.

 

 

 

 

Mornings

If there’s one thing I reckon working parents miss more than anything, it’s the weekend lie-in. I’ve never been a morning person, but I’m even less of a wake-up-in-the-middle-of-the-night-to-stumble-around-feeding-a-baby person, and as Mummy Cool looks after that side of things, it’s only fair I kiss the weekend lie-in goodbye. Fortunately, Red, only ten months old, normally wakes me up in the sweetest possible way, with coos and muttering and yawning. I’m greeted by a big jolly smile and the day begins gently.

 

But I need that time. That time is necessary. I need to prepare for the awakening. The awakening of Blondie.

 

Blondie (four years old) and I have more in common than either of us would like to admit, and as a result we rub each other the wrong way a lot. That first hour in the morning tends to be the most volatile.  Don’t get me wrong, when she was a baby she was just as sweet as Red, but around the age of one, something changed. Over the last few years I have walked in to greet her with a bright and cheery “Morning!”, only to receive, in return:

 

A: Grunts and sighs of withering disappointment, you know, the ones you normally expect from a teenager.

B: Screams.

C: (Sobs) “I don’t want YOU, I want Mummy!”.

 

For a while, Blondie would only come down stairs with me if I brushed my hair first. It was this that wound me up more than anything else. What made Blondie decide that a scruffy Daddy was simply not good enough? Is this how everyone else who has seen me first thing in the morning felt? Oh no, actually what really got to me were the comments about my “horrible stinky breath”. Blondie was basically comparing me to a bog brush. And if the character assassinations weren’t enough, Blondie would often kick up such a fuss, Mummy Cool would have to get up with us and be a referee until she could then escape.  And don’t even get me started on how you go about giving breakfast to a fussy eater…

 

Thankfully, over the years I’ve managed to weather the storm with a mixture of potentially humiliating games (luckily I have little shame) such as pretending to be a kindly old lady called Granny Goggins, and/or a man buying wedding dresses (?), and, most enjoyable of all, the healing power of music! Yes, I am proud to report that Blondie loves watching repeats of old Top Of The Pops as much as me, and these days the three of us cut a rug around the living room to the songs I heard as a child, by artists such as “Katie Bush” (“she’s a funny onion daddy!”) and Bucks Fizz (when watching the famous skirt-ripping moment in Making Your Mind Up, Blondie said “wouldn’t it be funny if the girls ripped the boy’s trousers off and their willies were out?!).

 

It may be exhausting, but I’ll never tire of the sense of relief and pride I gain when I win her over each week. I hope she grows out of it soon though, as Red will also be old enough to bully me before long…

 

DADDY (UN)COOL: Parent Blog has been written by a local East Riding Dad, check him out on Twitter @daddyuncoolblog