The Uncool Dad’s thoughts on the inevitable and impending conversation with his kids
My eldest son is 12. 13 this year. Next month actually. He’s a handsome chap (despite a terrible hair do) so I regularly take the piss and tease him by asking him about the girlfriend that he doesn’t have (supposedly), much to the dismay of my sister and the missus who think I’m going to give him a complex. It’s just a bit of banter. But he’s a cheeky bugger so I let him have it.
After putting it on him for a bit, he’ll usually try to shift the heat onto his sister by bringing up a boy in her class. But Daddy knows all about him.. Continue reading “Having “The Talk” with your kids”
The Uncool Dad and family hit up Northala Fields for some Hill-Fili time
A couple of weeks ago I went to visit my older two kids. As you might have guessed, they don’t live with me and due to ‘logistical difficulties’, I haven’t been able to see them much recently. Flanked by the Missus, our youngest little panda and my sister (our pilot for the day), we took them out to IKEA in Wembley for some meatballs (not the best meatballs but the kids love them).
Being an on the fly visit, I hadn’t planned what we were going to do after we had gotten our munch on. My sis recalled all of the times we had driven past Hangar Lane, seen a bunch of tall hills and been like “WTF IS THAT?!”
HILL-FILI TIME, THAT’S WHAT!
Continue reading “The Hills Are Aliiiive.. With The Sound Of The Uncool Dad Complaining”
There’s bloggers that win awards – they’re consistent in what they do, they slog it out and constantly grind to put the best into their blogs/vlogs. These guys post two to four times a week, they’re always up to date with the latest in parenting trends and happenings. Some of them even get paid for it!
And then there’s writers like myself. So self-conscious about what to share that I end up over-sharing at times if not at all, fussing too much about quality over quantity that I end up not writing for almost two months (ok to be fair, I’ve been frickin’ busy with fundraising with the Missus for charity and helping her organise her brand Three Little Pandas’ first birthday party whilst cramming in end of tax year admin and.. well, you know.. working and keeping the kids alive and shit). In the time since my last post, I was also pretty ill before we travelled abroad (and lo and behold, I’m ill again since we got back). Trying to write when you’re ill is an absolute bitch. The long and short of it is that I don’t deserve an award of any type for writing by my standards.
Anyway, I’ve won a fucking award!!! Continue reading “Mystery Blogger Award”
The Uncool Dad Recounts The Birth Of His Youngest Son In Tribute To His Missus
Some weeks back on the 8th of March was Women’s Appreciation Day. In all honesty, I completely missed it but it was a day to celebrate the lives and importance of women, the progress made to advance equality for women and to assess the challenges that still remain.
I do appreciate my Missus. She’s easily the best thing that’s ever happened to me (yep, even better than new Star Wars, the return of the Original Nike Air Max 1 shape, Calpol syringes and Pot Noodle). She gives me drive to get out of bed in the morning. And yes, dealing with her can be like stepping on lego barefooted sometimes but I couldn’t imagine life without her. Most importantly, she’s strong enough to put up with my bullshit (and there’s a lot of bullshit).
So this week, I’ve decided to write about the birth of our youngest as promised in a previous post. Continue reading “Oi, Your Mum!”
“Gahhhhhhhh.. I swear, the next person who thinks it’s ok to jump across the front of the pram is gonna get their ankles taken out”, I cursed with my teeth clenched whilst pushing the pram along the busy streets of Central London. The missus however, shakes her head, flashes that smile that I fell in love with before chuckling to herself then linking her arm with mine.
Clearly I’m over-reacting and she knows it. But she’s better than I am – things like this don’t really bother her. I on the other hand am all about etiquette for the most part. Like a typical Londoner, I hate my personal space being invaded. When my son is buckled into his pram, it becomes an extension of me, so jumping over the front of my son’s ride let alone getting too close to it leaves a taste in my mouth worse than drinking orange juice too soon after brushing your teeth. Continue reading “The Ballache of Pushing a Pram Around Central London”
Recently the Missus and I have been speaking quite a bit about whether we should put our two year-old little panda Benjamin into pre-school. The conversation sparked when we (she) received a call from a local family centre saying that we are entitled to 15 hours per week and with the cost of childcare being the cause of many a hernia, this wasn’t a conversation that I could just “sure, whatever you want babe” my way out of.
Last week, we went through what was for us a major milestone – Benjamin relinquishing his last dummy.. something that we were dreading for fear of him going full on, inconsolable beast mode in its absence, when in actual fact it turned out to be much the opposite – he’s engaging and communicating more, his speech is improving rapidly and surprisingly sleeping deeper than if he took sleeping beauty’s apple, brewed it into a special cellar cider and smashed it off through his sippy cup. It was as if his dummy was the plug keeping him an infant, ready to be pulled to let out the next stage of childhood.
Continue reading “Is Our 2 Year-Old Ready For Pre-School”
Our two year old goes through the motions of growing up, from wearing his breakfast as a hat to saying goodbye to his dummy
It started with the image above. I was on my way to work when I received a message from the Missus. She had sent me the image of Benjamin, our two year old sitting on the sofa covered in Ready-Brek. Look back at the photo.. Look at how cute his sad face is, he looks like a sad face emoji! Awww hahaha!
Me: “What happened?!?!”
The Missus: “I went to the kitchen to make my toast and I hear him go “oooh” in his sad voice, come back in and he’s covered in this frickin porridge. LOL I tried to take it out of his hair with a wet wipe and it bloody stuck! Need to shower him now. Arghhh”
Continue reading “That Was The Last Dummy, Dummy!”