Big Daddy.

Its been a bloody long while. I've just been way too busy with a whole bunch of stuff. Yea yea...i know...busy for a year? A little far fetched...but it sounds alot better than saying I was just too lazy. At any rate, with the advent of turning 21, I magically became an individual bestowed with all the mature powers of an adult. That line of thought somehow magically leads to the whole idea about parenthood.

I’ve always wondered. What happens after I get married and have kids? Now, now ladies, don’t go picking up your skirts and running off...I’m not saying I want to get married *now*. In the future obviously, but I’ve got my prime years ahead of me. Plus, I’ve always been of the opinion that there’s no point in doing anything by halves...if you’re going to be dedicated to someone, it might as well be 120%. (Yes, I’m an extremist, but I find it works for me.) I mean, have your fun now; after all, young men are genetically programmed to disseminate their seed as far as possible. Have all the rolls in the hay while you’re single, but dedication is a very long and...dedicated thing. *shudder* (It’s pretty shudder inducing...all this talk about dedication...I haven’t summoned up enough courage to be dedicated to a doughnut let alone one woman.)

But, I digress...what happens when I grow old and have kids? No offence to all you mums and dads out there, but once you’ve got a kid, everyone automatically assumes you’re old. At least the kids do. And it’s pretty depressing once you realise that everyone is calling you, “Uncle” or “Aunty”. I mean...your friends are about your age, so they can’t exactly call you an ancient artefact or anything. But theres nothing more disheartening than someone running up to you and saying “Uncle...blablabla (cue cute baby voice asking lots of indecipherable questions)”. I mean...I may have a kid, but by gosh I’m not old. I mean...bloody hell...would it kill you to call me “kor kor” or “Mr.” Or something? I’m aware of the cultural differences and all that jazz...But honestly, “Uncle” just sounds depressing...makes me want to sit down with a hot cup of Chinese tea, while stroking my great white beard.

Thinking about how I’m about to deal with it is really a pain in the arse. I’ll admit it’s a little early to be thinking about these sort of things, but honestly...what do you do in situations like that? You could be childish and hang that kid from the nearest washing line, peg him up with washing pins or something. (it’s gonna be a boy...and if it was a girl u wouldn’t do anything anyway by virtue of the fact that she was cute) Young boys are grubby messes...nothing that a good line hanging won’t cure. Or I could break down in tears, realising that this boy of five who can’t see past my knee has noticed my receding hairline. Or I could just play the whole gruff card and growl menacingly at him. *Urrrrrr* (thats a growling noise by the way...see my hackles rise?) I mean...thinking about these kinda things just gives me a headache. What is appropriate behaviour when you’re a parent?

Just because I’m a dad doesn’t mean I have to give up all cool privileges do I? I mean...I still wanna kick back and enjoy a spot of football, or a drink or something. But then I’ve got to worry about what’s a good example and all that. It’s all just wayyyy too complicated for a simple soul like myself. In all honesty, I’d be a really weird dad I reckon. If I had a son...maybe it’d be easier...I’d know what to expect and all that. Sneaking out...girls...drinking...football. I mean, been there done that. But how the heck do I parent a daughter?! I mean...what if my daughter gets her first period and my wife isn’t around?! What do I do? What do I say?! I’d probably be running around like a headless chicken. I mean...can I give her one of my wifes tampons? How do I clean it up? Do I even *have* to clean it up? Am i even *allowed* to clean it up? (I mean...there’s gotta be some kind of law against going near your daughters hoo haa right?)

Sons would be so much easier. Eaten a frog? Haha! Idiot...It’ll come out sooner or later. Bruised yourself? You’ll get over it – the iodine’s in the cupboard to the left. Some kid bullied you? Go fight him...and then once you’ve beat him up then come home and we’ll laugh about it – make sure you give me a punch by punch commentary. If you lose, then I’ll go beat him up for you. (Unless his dad is bigger than I am la, in which case you’re on your own kiddo) Football? Don’t even get me started...I think my dream is to turn my son into some kinda uber athlete. While not being a complete idiot of course...education *is* fairly important. Or maybe I should leave that to my wife...I’m more prone to tell my son to leave the books and come out kick a ball around.

After some contemplation, I’ve realised that I want to be a cool dad. A friend, know what I mean? Laid back...kinda like Kiera Knightly’s dad in “Bend it like Beckham” (without the pot belly or the deranged wife) but also cool...kinda like Brad Pitt – yes, I know i sound like a complete Gaylord – but which kid wouldn’t think his dad was cool if he starred in a movie with spears and swords plus one where he shot up a whole bunch of people and got the yummy mummy at the end...although at this stage its probably still “I hate girls” – to which I sagely nod and say “Sure you do son...sure you do.” Yet with enough authority...I mean...I do want my kid to take me seriously right? Like when I say “drop and give me ten!” he’ll go do twenty.

Just thinking about it gives me a headache. Which has sort of made me reach some kind of epiphany...if thinking about it is this hard, imagine just doing it. Fuck...my parents must’ve gone through some hell. To all those reading this, what kind of parent would you want to be? I’d go into alot more detail, but that’d just be too long winded. (I mean...Keira’s dad *can’t* be my model going into parenting right?) It’s just that a good blog post should be like a skirt. Short enough to arouse interest, but yet long enough to cover all the essentials. And I think I’ve said too much. Cmon...you know you’re thinking about what parent you’d be. Spill the beans. I’m open to ideas. LoL! And to mum...dad...thanks for being great parents...wouldn't change you for the world.