Flying solo: Man vs Boys

The words every father dreads “I’ll be out for the day, will you be ok with the kids?” 

Everything within me panics, but that’s not communicated by my face or response. “Sure honey,” I reply.

My wife recently enjoyed a lovely spa day in Milton Keynes, leaving me flying solo to face screaming, tantrums and finding myself covered in numerous food stains. 

I was convinced Laura would come home and find the house had fallen down, with me and the kids sat on the kerb.

The kids will have had the time of their lives, but me, I’m rocking backwards and forwards, feeling inconsolable.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not the thought of spending time with my children, I love my boys, it’s more the pressure of finding activities to fill an entire day which leaves me feeling nauseous.

Copyright: DaddyDotCom 

However, I’m sure it wasn’t just me who was dreading the prospect, the kids probably were too. As a dad, I completely understand that there’s no substitute for Mum. Dads I’m sure you can relate.

I could picture it now. Everything would start well; I’d keep them occupied enough so that they’d barely notice Mummy was gone. 

Then the activities would dry up and in a brief interlude from fun with dad, they’d realise Mummy isn’t around, uh-oh. I would then be greeted with the familiar sound of wailing ‘Mummy, mummy.’

Yep, you’ve probably gathered I’m a pretty self-conscious dad when Mum’s not around and the realisation that my wingmate was about to be away, not just for the whole day, but for the bedtime routine too, just made this self-consciousness worse.

Flying solo instantly brings to the surface all those fears every dad has when Mum isn’t present – losing them in the park or watching them fall from 4ft off the climbing frame and having to explain how on earth all these things happened.

Being honest, I feel out of my depth when alone with a five-year-old and a two-year-old, because fatherhood doesn’t come naturally to me, I really have to work at it. 

In my head, I’d already prepared myself for endless repetitions of:

• ‘Stop that’
• ‘Jake, stop hitting your brother’
• ‘Malachi, get your head out of the toilet’
• ‘Come here’
• ‘Malachi, what are you eating’
• ‘Jake, too many questions’

...and so on  

How did it go?

In my weakness, my boys showed strength. The day, on the whole, was very successful. 

Part of me believes that the boys could sense my apprehension, and aside from a few small brotherly skirmishes, our time together was enjoyed without incident. 

Well, I say without incident, does a downstairs toilet flood and a broken coat hook count?

The highlight of the day was our time together at Chasewater, a local beauty spot, where we enjoyed some great bonding time over a game of football, using the park facilities and a spot of lunch. 

It was all very pleasant and in those moments I realised that fatherhood is something that can be enjoyed, it’s only a battle in my head.

Don’t get me wrong, when I first heard of the wife’s away day, the caveman instinct kicked in. I’ve got to find a way to survive this. 

Making sure bags are packed, that I’ve got every piece of child paraphernalia I need, realising I’ve got to feed them, dress them and get them through the day without accident or getting kidnapped.

Warped isn’t it, that my initial reaction to flying solo with my kids was one of surviving the day? 

My perception of what the day would be like was so far from what the day turned out to be that I was able to say to myself, you’re a good dad don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

It’s these moments I can reflect on when I’m experiencing ‘one of those days’ with the kids and next time I’m flying solo, I’ll be better prepared.

So dads, I just want to say you’re doing great, but still I’m so thankful for Mums.

Here’s to the parenting journey. Until next time - live, laugh and love.

Dan.

Ahhh!!! Chicken Pox

Well, it’s been a while since I hit this blog with anything new; in fact well over a year. No one told me having kids would take up so much of my life.

The one-year-old, Malachi, is now two, and the four-year-old, Jake, is now five and will have finished his first year of school by the time I post this.

The last 12 months have involved many sleepless nights, inclusive of a five-year-old who has not completed many nights in his own bed. 

It’s rare that I find myself waking up at 5.30am to start my day without a foot or a butt in my face, but enough about Jake. A new crisis has hit the Waldron household, chicken pox.

The compulsory illness

I’ve always wondered why every human being has to get chicken pox; I’ve always seen it as some form of initiation into the human race. 

Now, being a parent, I fully understand what my parents meant by it’s not the pox you have to worry about, it’s how it’s going to mess up your sleeping pattern.

Anyway, Malachi, the two-year-old has come down with pox. 

Still a jolly chap, despite the pox.

After messaging every person he’s recently come into contact with, including a pregnant friend of ours, who Malachi recently rubbed the belly of, operation quarantine began.

My wife, Laura, is now likely to be confined to the house for the next five days and I’ve already endured one sleepless night as Malachi woke no fewer than eight times on his first night with the pox. 

Being the awesome husband I am Laura never heard a peep, which will score me some points on the female point scoring system for men.

At first the spots were not so bad, but day two brought with it ‘the outbreak’, head to toe and in places I’d care not to mention. 

Cream is now being applied five times a day as we battle to stop the little man scratching himself to shreds.

I know it’s only pox, and I know every parent has to go through watching their kids endure them, and such is the knowledge that they’re something to get out of the way; there are even ‘pox parties’ nowadays. Blimey, I need to get in touch with the world.

However, what I can’t handle as Malachi’s dad is watching him go through this without any comprehension of what’s happening to him. 

I need to protect him and this is not an enjoyable experience for him, but I can’t do anything about it.

The itch

Then there’s me, as much as I see Malachi going through it, I now have the itch. I’ve had chicken pox, but for some reason unknown to me, I now itch all over. 

Get this though, when Malachi catches me scratching he tells me to stop it. Bless him.

As we complete day two, at 7.00pm on Wednesday 15, July, I realised that I’ve learnt something from Malachi’s pox experience, I can’t protect him from everything and sometimes my kids will have to endure things I can’t help them with.

However, as I look down at his pocked face, arms and body, he smiles at me and says ‘high five daddy.’ 

Though I’ve realised that I can’t protect my kids from everything, they’re strong enough to battle alone sometimes.

Now here’s hoping that Jake doesn’t get it. Anyway, it’s time for me to get the cream and lather the man up again.