Being the dad of a social toddler is odd sometimes.
Occasionally it makes me feel like I'm the spouse of a Governor or a Prime Minister.
You know...you show up to functions, smile, and shake hands with strangers.
These days those strangers are the parents of other toddlers who attend the same playgroups, schools, swimming lessons and reading circles as William.
And of course, half of those strangers aren't strangers at all....they're mums-in-arms and the best-of-friends of each other. But the other half - we dads - we show up alongside the mums and take smiling to a whole new level to compensate for the fact we don't know anyone as anything other than "Dexter's dad".
Tonight was one of those nights when we dads were required to mingle. In fact, it was more than that...we were required to share our innermost thoughts about the challenges of parenting as part of a moms and dads 'pajama party' at William's play school.
Gulp.
Share innermost thoughts? With a group of people about which you know absolutely nothing except that they too are parents!?
But that's what William's teacher asked us to do as we obediently sat around a table on 14"-high chairs. (picture above, courtesy of an eaves-dropping wife!)
She might as well have asked: "Has anyone had any problems with their bowels recently?"
For a long moment there was a stony silence in the circle as twelve men struggled for an answer and wished they were somewhere else.
Anywhere else.
Then a brave soul spoke out: "Well, it's quite hard to set boundaries You know. I mean, how many times can you say 'no'?"
"Yeah, yeah..." muttered a few around the table.
Then more silence.
Someone else offered a thought in response to some quiet urging from the teacher:
"What about TV? Is it bad that my kid watches TV already?"
"Only if he's not watching the Seahawks!" someone answered, and everyone laughed.
The relief in the room was palpable as the dads sighed a collective sigh which signaled that the conversation had shifted from awkward innermost thoughts to the universally popular subject of sports.
Well...what did she expect, right? We're dads!
We throw balls. We throw our kids around. We read them books punctuated with animal noises. We roll around on the carpet with our kids and we try to make every bath time more exciting than the Shamu show at Sea World.
When you only get to spend an hour or two a day with your child, there just isn't time to worry about the challenges of parenting. Dude...it's great just to BE a parent!
Anyway, William's teacher is great, but if I was her, chairing another dads discussion, I wouldn't ask them about the challenges.
My opening question would be: "OK, would anyone like to say anything about why being a dad is awesome?".
Hell, yes! Me first! I just saw William take his first steps today!
I remember my mum absolutely freaking out one day when I was seven or eight years old. I had got home from school about 25 minutes later than usual after stopping to play on the slide at the park with my friend Paul Saunders.
Why was she so worried???! It was only 25 minutes!
When we're young, our parents seem such strange creatures. When we're teenagers we dread the prospect of becoming OLD like them. In our twenties, we're so busy just getting STARTED with life that parenting seems unimaginable. And then, suddenly, we're in our thirties and the prospect of becoming exactly like our parents comes at us like a big fast-moving truck!
I have a crystal clear vision from 30 years ago of my mum following Ron and I around the house turning off lights we'd left glowing behind us like a trail of electronic breadcrumbs.
"Wait until you pay the bills!" she would shout from some other room in the house as we stumbled on regardless, lighting up new rooms as we went.
Today, I follow Emma from the bedroom to the kitchen to the lounge via the bathroom, flicking off light switches as I go, saying pretty much the exact same thing!
When he was still a working mariner, my dad came home from two and three month trips to sea as if all he'd been thinking about for those months was getting into the garden.
He would spend hours - days! - pacing our yellow-and-red-colored tile garden pathways between the cabbages and the lettuces inspecting his crops, followed at every step by our cat, Whiskey.
Now, yes, you've guessed it, I've become an avid gardener too. Is there a 'gardening gene' in the genetic sequence?
Tonight I was exstatic to pluck a ripe red strawberry from my hand-planted strawberry patch. Tomorrow, I might even eat it!
And then there's worrying. (Like the incident with the slide and Paul Saunders.) Since becoming a dad, I worry about my boy all the time.
I've probably thought up six excuses so far for checking that William is still breathing at night: A glass of water. Is the light still on? Did you hear that? Just need to check my schedule for tomorrow....I might as well check on William while I'm up.
Sorry mum. I understand about the slide now.
Of course, I should point out that the transformation to becoming a perfect replica of mother/father is not quite complete.
I have yet to chase my son around the garden with a large whicker carpet beater (my mum).
I have also not yet cursed my lazy son with colorful Dutch expletives for mowing the lawn with one hand in his pocket (my mum again).
And finally, I have yet to trade (for a four-pack of beer) silence to my wife about our son's secret house party while (he thought) his mother and father would be away at the same time.
Of course, you know that day will come!
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