Over the last couple of weeks due to family emergencies, I was entrusted with looking after my 2 year old niece and 3 year old nephew for a whole day. It got me thinking of how my life would be if I ever had children. Or maybe even one day having a knock on the front door and a long lost son I never knew about appeared before me, looked into my eyes and uttered the words “Daddy”. I can 100% categorically state, that if this scenario was ever to come to fruition, it would result in an instant heart attack for yours truly.
Now, back to reality and my babysitting, I’d looked after the kids for an hour here and there, but never for an actual whole day. How did it go I hear you ask? Well, to be brutally honest, I made a complete hash of it. Quite frankly I’d have been better off doing underwater knitting, or explaining astrophysics to Paris Hilton.
When the kids parents turned up in the evening, way past their bedtime I might add, one child had started a 20 a day smoking habit and the other was stuck in an apple tree after getting carried away on the trampoline. (I exaggerate slightly)
Things started to go wrong about lunchtime, well they may have gone wrong before that but I was locked on to my iPad looking for advice on how to best occupy a 3 year old while he had his head in the washing machine. Even the fabulous Deepa Rai on the radio who is normally my saviour on an afternoon had nothing for me. I can only assume she was busy playing bollywood tunes and dreaming of John Abraham feeding her nandos. Memo to self: tweet Deepa to have a babysitting section on her show, or at the very least play the teletubbies song on request.
So once it got to lunchtime and a quick scan of the fridge showed nothing apart from left over lasagne from the night before and a muller yoghurt, I decided it was best to go shopping for the kid’s lunch. Yes shopping, on my own, with 2 children. What could possibly go wrong?
The drive to Tesco was fine, as we listened to some Lionel Richie and Bob Marley on the way. I’m sure the kids were enjoying it; I mean who doesn’t love a bit of Lionel? I even parked in the wider parent child bays reserved normally for royalty. Go Uncle Tan I thought. However once we were inside the supermarket, it was a totally different story. My sweet cute nephew suddenly became allergic to anything that was on the shelf whilst my niece decided it was a good time fill up her pampers. As Janice from Friends would say “OH MY GAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWD”
It was time to make a quick exit, but my nephew didn’t want to play ball and decided he would make a dash for it to the fruit & veg section. Tescos may as well have played Benny Hill music over the tannoy, as I pushed a trolley around the aisles chasing after him. I emerged out of the supermarket some 20 minutes later feeling all hot and sweaty, with a packet of smarties, and a bag of monster munch. McDonald’s happy meals it was going to be then.
Now I know I’m not the only guy with a phobia of changing nappies. It isn’t that I won’t. I can’t. In the same way I can’t turn back time, or I can’t explain why Gavin Henson resembles a cheesy wotsit. So on my way back home I stopped off at my friend’s house; little did she know she would be wiping a baby’s bottom within minutes of opening the front door whilst I hid in a bush at the bottom of the garden. The rest of the afternoon involved tears, tantrums, and generally falling over a lot and that was just me for starters.
I was so glad I could give the kids back, and at the end of the day I realised why we need, and when I say we, I mean all fathers, and if I was a father and had kids, why we need the mother. Blokes are good at the fun stuff, taking the kids out for an hour or so to the park and it’s a job well done when you come back with the same number you left with that morning.
The mum however, is the responsible one, and there is the magic word “RESPONSIBLE”. Fathers maybe able to read a chapter of Harry Potter to the kids at night, but the mother would make sure the kids would be in their pyjamas, washed, scrubbed, and with their homework all done. Not to mention the playroom would be gleaming like a pathology lab. I'm sure there are doting dads out there who can do all those things and more too.
The mum however, is the responsible one, and there is the magic word “RESPONSIBLE”. Fathers maybe able to read a chapter of Harry Potter to the kids at night, but the mother would make sure the kids would be in their pyjamas, washed, scrubbed, and with their homework all done. Not to mention the playroom would be gleaming like a pathology lab. I'm sure there are doting dads out there who can do all those things and more too.
But in the main, to the fathers, kids are fun, to mothers, they’re a responsibility. That is why it is so important to have both.
Peace Love & Happiness
TanRockstar
