Browsing Tag

Father Inc

Father Inc, how i pretend to be a cool mum, the breast things in life are free

What’s better than bringing home the bacon? Being home with the bacon.

Daddy’s been home these two weeks, the longest break he’s had since he started work. I heart having daddy around at home, he does all the manly stuff like cleaning poop and yelling at the kids while I sleep in. In case you missed that, I actually said sleep in. That’s like the Holy Grail of motherhood. And you would think that it’s going to feel overrated after you have it but oh no, it. is. good.

I can really get used to this, not having to do everything on my own. A 2:2 (two-parent to two-kid) ratio is so much easier because we can divide and conquer. One to hold the fort while the other takes five.

I’ve also noticed that the kids are closer to Kel whenever he’s at home. Tru asks for daddy all the time and he shouts for “dad-dyyyyy” in that sweet baby voice, which is a relief because I can escape diaper changes but I’m also bummed about being displaced as his favorite person.

I know boys need a strong, masculine presence to give them security and all but I miss that special look he used to give me like I’m everything he needs. Now everything is morphing into something once in a while and soon it’ll be “mommmm, don’t kiss me in public anymore, it’s WEIRD and EMBARRASSING!

I hate to break it to you, kid, but momma’s going to kiss you till you’re 65. Maybe not all over because that would be weird. But kiss you, I will.

We’re all going to be a little sad when daddy goes back to work next week. Tru’s going to throw a hissy fit when I have to tell him that “daddy’s at work, sweetheart”. Baby girl will look all forlorn again. Momma will cry a little and maybe dust under the sink for a place to hide.

But we’ve got three days left, right about the time where you start to feel the blues sinking in. The last few days of any holiday are always bittersweet because at the back of your mind, you’ll always be thinking about how it’s going to suck after. That’s why the last three days of our honeymoon was spent in Disneyland so we wouldn’t have time to sit around and mope.

Three more days and I’m going to par-ty like it’s 1999. We’ve got Kirsten’s baby dedication and a wedding coming up so it’s going to be fun. Hopefully we’ll have some good pics for you guys. Here’s one first, for the record.

Father Inc

A Cool Dad is (NOT) an Oxymoron

Let’s face it. If i were to ask you readers out there “How many of you would consider your father to be cool?”, the response I get will probably be similar to me asking “Would you consider Hitler cuter without a moustache and having only massacred 2 million Jews instead of six?” or “Do you prefer being long sleeved or short sleeved?” while polishing the blade of my Hatori Hanzo.

The truth is most of the time, our dads embarass us, not in a purposefully conceited manner but in that lovable but doofish sort of Dad style – that makes them so NOT cool.

So he claims to be the top scorer for the high school basketball team that came just 2 points short of landing the state championships (i should have taken the game winning shot, he laments). But after seeing how he shoots (brings new meaning to the underhand method, urgh) and watching him screen your friends out from rebounds with his well-formed behind, all illusions of your dad being the Lebron James of his time shatter and you vow never to invite him to your pickup games again.

So he used to be the lead singer of a rock and roll band; apparently if American Idol was launched back then he would have made it to the top six on his sheer stage presence alone and then ace the competition plus a recording contract with his soaring pipes. Then he picks up Guitar Hero and screams an overly jazzed up rendition of FreeBird, and as your friends watch in a mixture of awe, shock and horror, you vow never to invite him to your video game sessions again.

Once I told some relatives at a family gathering that I was going with Daphne to Mount Faber for a drink with some friends. Upon hearing that, they started giving me knowing looks and winks as we left, much to my bewilderment. Later, I found out that Mount Faber was apparently a hotspot for couples to get some hanky panky action, and that my Dad used to bring my Mom there. FML.

Parents- Dads, listen, when your kids grow up, – the following is going to be inevitable.

1. They will look at our wedding photos and laugh at our attire. 

2. That is, if they apparently don’t die from laughing at our hairstyles.

3. The football players that you consider great at  the moment (Cristiano Ronaldo, Messi) will be to our kids those hippy men in super tight jerseys and tigher shorts running around on the pitch in those sepia-toned footage at half-time interludes.

[Fun fact about me: Apparently, I was supposed to be named after one of England’s football greats, Kevin Keegan. Except that my folks got the spelling wrong and named me Kelvin instead. There is not a single famous football player in the world who has a first name called Kelvin. (Kelvin Kilbane doesn’t count guys, he plays for Hull City.) Again, FML.]

4. They’ll listen to your story of how you met (and courted) their mother and go “Gee, I can’t believe mom fell for that. That is so dweebish. And, honestly dad, I thought I stepped into a museum when I went to Al Fornos on your Silver Anniversary. “

5. One day, you’ll decide to revive those inline skates in the attic. You’ll put them on and go to the East Coast Park and think that the young chaps who are also skating there will go “hey, that guy’s really cool for an old dude, he does inline skating!Except that when you get there, there are no young chaps but lots of familiar faces hobbling around unsteadily on inline skates, which happens to have been out of production for five years now, by the way.

So what’s an old man gotta do? Me being the ever helpful Superdad, I have here a few tips on how to stay trendy, contemporary and cool when you enter into your golden years.

Don’t try too hard. 

This is really the key rule here. I don’t need my father to be doing scat singing a la Jason Mraz to be cool. In fact, I’ll be rather scared of that (oh, nevermind). You don’t have to wear baggy hooded jackets and a long, blingy chain to be cool. It’s very disconcerting. Stop it.

So, attire wise, you want to dress your age, but NOT how people dressed at your current age back when you were young. I know that’s sounds complicated one but chew on it. 

Change your hairstylist. 

This seems to be an arbitrary and somewhat insignificant point but I cannot emphasize the importance of this. I have seen too many photos of friends’ parents and parents’ friends and have concluded that they would have been better off doing permanent hair removal on their heads and then specially customizing a wig (or a set of similar wigs for washing) to reduce the carbon footprints involved in driving to the barber and turning on the electric shaver because THEIR HAIRSTYLE HAS BEEN THE SAME FRIGGIN’ ONE THE PAST FORTY YEARS. 

Noticed I said to change your hairstylist and not just your hairstyle. Look, much as Uncle Murasamy from Sri Nada is a very skilful barber, he probably hasn’t updated much of his skills set and not found a need to, so don’t be upset when you bring along a magazine, point to Beckham’s do and leave the salon looking more like Scary Spice. 

Don’t bring up past glories unless you’re asked. Even then, be self-effacing and pretend to be embarrased by the fact that you used to be Prom King. 

You should go all like “Ah, that was a long time ago, you don’t want to hear about that/see those pictures.” Make no mistake, you really want to but that is one heck of a bait. Your kids will go, “Aw come on dad, Prom King! I wanna see some photos!” and you’ll be all “Hmm, i’m not quite sure where they are now, but there may be a few pictures in the third drawer of the brown cabinet in the basement study room,  to the left of my Harry Potter box set and right below the stack of my limited edition Michael Jordan basketball cards.” 

On this point – strategically hide “contraband items” (like weed) in places where your children will undoubtedly excavate when they are bored. 

Your kids will be like, “Oh cool, my dad smokes weed!” Then they’ll see a vision of you looking stoned in your hippy hairstyle, glazed eyes and goofish smile and all and start to think twice about taking drugs. 2 birds, UNO STONE.

Write a letter to yourself, address it to Agent [your surname] and stamp a large-assed “TOP SECRET. TO BE OPENED BY ADDRESSEE ONLY OR CERTAIN DEATH TO FOLLOW” 

The inside prose has to be convincing and you may want to research some John Le Carre novels for reference. Self-destruct papers are cool but risky if you live in a house with loads of country-style, wooden furnishing. Safety first, Agent Zero.

With these handy tips, you’re well on your way to be not just a Superdad, but a cool dad as well. Stay safe and if anything does screw up, refer to this.