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| From Dude to Dad in Six Months |
It's Macdonald's on a Tuesday afternoon about 5.30pm. It’s June and it's hot and crowded and we are beginning to wish we had driven on to our local pub instead. The kids have finished their food and left us to soak in the atmosphere. They are well away in the play section. Five year old Thomas had attached himself to a group of older boys and is trying to look equally tough while his little sister Evie, three, is waving at me playfully from the mini ball pool. The attendant notices and smiles indulgently saying, "Are you waving to daddy dear? Daddy can come in and play you know." Evie turns away and decides to scoot off to find her brother. Helen and I exchange glances. No one says anything. None of us could be bothered to explain that no, I am not their daddy but that, at the same time, I do all the things a daddy should. I play with them, discipline them and comfort them. The only thing I leave completely to their mother is nappies and all that sort of messy stuff. But hey, don't most dads do that anyway? The strange thing about all this is that six months ago I was a 34-year-old single bloke. I enjoyed playing with my brother and sister's kids but had nothing more than a vague desire to have my own someday. I ate when I wanted (usually a burger and chips or Thai takeaway on my way home last thing at night). I went home when I wanted. I went dancing (salsa and ceroc) at least twice a week and, on occasion, have been known to wake up in the middle of the night and watch a late night/early morning movie just for the hell of it. That life is now over. Now I know that any dad out there is saying "So what? Join the Club". But the point is I never had the anticipation of an invitation in the first place. I was just thrown onto the dance floor and told to boogie without knowing any steps. I never had the gentle expectations of nine months of feeling a baby grow inside my girlfriend's body and I never had chance to witness indulgently the progression from crying bundle to adorable crawling creature. No, I meet thomas and Evie as energetic little people and have to deal with them as such. So, what on earth am I doing here? I knew Helen vaguely at University. She was a friend of a friend, but was seeing someone. We had one dance at my graduation ball. I knew she liked me, and she knew I liked her. Twelve years later we met up again, both changed people. But for some strange reason we fit. It’s cheesy I know but it’s true. There’s a chemistry and energy between us that has probably surprised us both. Love, passion and fun have created a bond that is very strong and has withstood many problems. I think back to my former lifestyle, and yes, I was busy, had lots of friends and did a lot of interesting things, but I was still alone and only periodically happy. I now have an intelligent woman who loves me as much as I love her and kids who love me as well. I look forward to coming home; instead of thinking what should I do to keep myself busy. It has shocked Helen as much as me. "I hadn't even got used to my role as a single mother when we got together. I had the future already planned out. It would be just me and the kids for a few years, a few hot dates here and there (I would hope!) and then I'd meet some ageing single dad at a friend's barbecue and we'd hit it off and we would be one big family. There's no way I was planning on some single bloke taking on me and my baggage." And baggage she certainly had. From a framed collage of her and her ex looking down at me over the kitchen table from places as diverse as the Taj Mahal and Hollywood to the man himself who comes to see his children twice a week. Friends comment that they couldn't, or wouldn't, do what I have done. They would never consider looking after another man's children and all the responsibilities it entails. And those responsibilities are not just financial. From the moment children let you into their lives and give you their love you are responsible in some way for them. Do I miss my single days? Of course, who doesn't? Even Helen, who has been a mother for over five years, admits to feeling nostalgia for the days when she could knock back a bottle of wine and dance the night away and not worry about being face to face with a little face under the duvet first thing in the morning. What has amazed me, however, are the knock on effects that becoming a step dad can have. I have always prided myself on being a quite a fit bloke. I used to go the gym a few times a week, play golf, softball, run, as well as dance. I would raise my eyes silently to the sky when I heard other men make feeble excuses about being too tired or not having enough time. Now, I know what they mean. I hardly have time to read a newspaper let alone do a full gym session. That now has to be slotted in to my lunchtime instead of in my own time after work. I have also been dumbfounded by how tired you get when you are looking after kids. There is always something to do and even a day spent doing mundane things like the supermarket shop leaves me flagging. Stress levels are high and made even higher by having to control them. I can no longer get rid of my angst by shouting "tosser!" about bad drivers. A nap in the middle of the day is out of the question and I do miss that wonderful feeling of total absorption when you're reading a good book and don't have to put it down until you finish it. Sex is almost too obvious to mention. Although we basically get a weekend of total abandonment every other week when the children see their father things are much more clandestine that I would have ever imagined. There's so much more to be concerned about, noise levels being just one. However, I must admit that I have learnt to grab the moment when I can, as by the time the kids are safely snoring away in bed we will be too tired! Contending with children actually crawling into the bed unannounced was strange. The first time Evie came in I hardly slept at all. Her mother had said softly "it's lovely when the kids come in, their sleep is so soothing." I just found her kicks, snuffling and rolling around so annoying. It was like sleeping with a terrier under the duvet. Although the children only come in the middle of the night if they are ill, they do both descend on us in the morning. Evie wants to play with her imaginary friends, Thomas wants to play fight with me and Helen looks at me hungrily. However, we both know nothing like that has got the remotest chance of happening. My friends have had to accept the new set up. Once fairly flexible, I used to be free at a day's notice (or even less) for films, golf, dancing, whatever. Now friends have to book at least two weeks in advance and then everything is centred around the kids. Spontaneity and children are mutually exclusive. Workmates have been just as surprised although the family aspect makes my older colleagues a bit more empathic towards me. At the same time, many of my old University friends already have families and we now have more to talk about. It's a bit of a running joke at the moment that I've bypassed the sleepless nights and screaming stage and gone straight into the rewarding bit. But it's a lot more fun than I ever expected. Kids can make you laugh at the most serious of moments and suddenly there are little people who find my fart jokes funny. I've now got the chance to relive the childhood I wanted. I can afford a decent scaletrix set and at long last get chance to play with Stretch Armstrong. Well, I did until Thomas and I stretched him too far and he bled to death. I suppose the fact that Helen wants to have children with me has made a difference. If she didn't I doubt if I would be writing this today. And I have been lucky with her children. They have welcomed me wholeheartedly almost from the first time we met. However, I have learnt that they are not always the naïve innocents they appear. If they are in a bit of a mood they can talk about their daddy for hours on end when I really don't want to hear about him. Evie, in a fit of pique, once told me she wasn't my friend any more, she was "daddy's friend". Of course I now know that it is the sort of nonsense that children say but I was surprised at how much it hurt me. But moments like that are few and far between. Helen has noticed that the kids run to me as often as to her when they are hurt or upset. There is no doubt that I am part of the family. A friend of mine was not so lucky. Ed, an old time comrade in singleton years, met the woman of his dreams over the Internet. He lived in London. She lived in the States. No problem. He moved to the States. What did prove to be a problem however were the children, and the family dynamics. "Lara doesn't let me make any suggestions about the children and comments that they are her children, not mine. She doesn't encourage them to show me respect and this makes my position there very precarious." Ed and Lara spilt up recently but they are now trying the second time. This time, tellingly in different houses, "We get on better when we are on our own." sighs Ed. It's all very well and good to have a casual relationship with a mother and be happy to keep it without the bounds of family life, but a relationship like that certainly isn't worth uprooting your whole life for. It does tend to be all or nothing with families and it that's probably how it should be anyway. back to more articles |
| Posted: 19/04/2005 13:44:01 Last Updated: 19/04/2005 13:47:14 |
Chick Lit > Lifestyle :: From Dude to Dad in Six Months