Everyday's an adventure for a Donegal dad!
Allow us to introduce DW’s first column by ‘Daddyman’ – a local father who is keen to give a glimpse into the world of fatherhood and keen to stay anonymous (to protect his wife’s dignity perhaps!).
This chapter recounts the moment he discovers his wife is expecting… and his adventures as a ‘manny’ are just about to begin.
Here I am … Me
Going to be a father.
The biggest child of them all.
I was so amazed, my partner completely caught me off guard. I always wondered what way I’d find out, would it be attached to an aeroplane in giant letters across the sky, a picture carefully orchestrated, so even a dummy like me could figure it out, shaved into the back of someone’s head or written on a t-shirt!
Funnily enough, it was while struggling to carrying 20 bags of shopping because I’m a man, and we only do one trip. (and then b*tch about it for 2 weeks)
Yes, while carrying in 20 bags of shopping (now that I think of it, it was closer to 100)
So, it was while carrying said 200 bags of shopping and complaining about how heavy (said 400 bags) / many bags were asking “will you at least open the door for me”.
Then, a pregnancy test snuck out from behind a kitchen door … Simply saying “pregnant”
No way … Holy shh…
Needless to say, the eggs didn’t make it and the bread and ice cream were wrecked.
“You’re going to be a dad” she says!
Yes and just like the movies, we kissed and yes just like the movies, I rubbed her tummy and yes I spoke to the belly.
Better than watching Donegal hammer Dublin in the GAA. Better than a final episode of Game of Thrones (easy now), better than a Sean Spicer speech or the Saturday night live aftermath, better than McGregor whapping the head off Aldo.
Then the questions:
How do feel? How far along are we? Is it a girl or boy? What if I break it, I’m not good with fragile things, you’re not allowed to lift anything or walk or smile, you need an assistant if you’re going to over smile, one who can wipe your butt and drive you to the shop when you get cravings, mmmm no on second thoughts, I’ll do that.
Should we buy a pram set that costs the same price as a small island in the South Pacific?
Then all of a sudden
I got the fear
Holy shhhhhh …
This is really happening
I’m going to be, like an adult and responsible (brain starts to laugh uncontrollably)
I’ll have to grow a beard and get a rocking chair and smoke a pipe and read the Sunday papers!
I’ll have to learn how to dance! Badly!
I’ll have to wear Converse! The canvas ones!
Oh my god! I’m going to have to drink Guinness and say things like “back in my day” and “ha kids” “no respect” and “they don’t make them, like they use to.
Calm down … This will pass,
This is the pre-fear.
The real fear is, will it be a girl or a boy?
If it’s a boy, I’ll have to teach him, respect, honour, Ironman, AC/DC, Spider-man, Bruce Springsteen, Batman and shaving. I’ll teach him how to play football after he gets his degree in astro physics and make €250,000 a week!
If it’s a girl: I’ll have to teach her that she can be anything she wants to be and not to let anyone hold her back … Then AC/DC, Batman, Superman and Wonder Woman.
I’d teach her how to play football after she gets her Law degree of course, so she can kick every guy’s ass who thinks he’s better at football because he’s a man!
Also I need to tell her that’s she’ll always be Daddy’s little girl, but she’s not allowed to date until she’s 50 (ok, that’s a bit harsh – 49!!) and that boys are bad mkay.
Why? Because my rusty axe says so!
And so the journey begins,
The countdown to D – addy day
Wait … Where’s this baby going to sleep!
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