Sleeping is cheating

I’ve not had a proper nights sleep for 16 months.

Well I think its been 16 months.

I’ve lost track.

I should’ve done a tally by marking the tree wallpaper with a sharpie pen.

Every night without fail my baby wakes me up.

I’ve worked out on average. I roughly get about an hours sleep.

I’ve got work in the morning.

I’ll spend my day functioning on auto pilot.

Some days I don’t remember a thing about my shift.

I’ll start.

Then I’ll leave.

In between its all a blur.

She carries on giggling and laughing.

I could swear she’s goading me. 

I love my child. But for fucks sake go to sleep you little cunt

We live in a one bedroom flat.

In hindsight before me and my girlfriend even contemplated about having a sprog of our own we should’ve sold up and moved. 

I need this little fucker of joy to zip it and go to sleep.

The only way in which she will cease is if I grab her by her tiny leg, swing and smash her head against the wall until she no longer makes a noise.

Suppose I could smother her with the blanket that she has become accustomed to.

Or I could strap her in her pram and take her for a walk and leave her to freeze in the dead of night

There’s a full box of co-codamol somewhere.  That I bought because I’ve been suffering with a stiff neck. They help to take a slight fraction of the ache away.

By the way they’re for me the not my baby. I’m not a complete lunatic. 

Considering downing the entire box with a bottle of whisky. In the hope that my heart will stop beating from being submerged from this early hour cocktail.

I need sleep. I could sleep for days. No weeks. Scrap that months, years.

This is torture.

The only light at the end of this never ending tunnel is that of the morning Sun light that creeps through the vertical blinds.

This informs me that another night has passed. Once again without much sleep. And now she sleeps.

Seaicidal thoughts

I’ve decided I’m gonna make some vidz. Again.

This is the reprise.

I’m gonna go with the process of creating and keep it real.

Big thank you to Gershom.

Who told me to keep it simple and be consistent.

Gershomology: https://www.youtube.com/user/GoneNuckingFuts

Much love.

Meaning of Ash

We were having drinks.
As the whisky flowed we’d waffle on.
The more intoxicated we became the conversation turned philosophical.

She asked me “What are you most proud of?”

I was stunned.
I had nothing.
Of course the birth of my daughter.
But I had nothing.
Perhaps being a full-time slacker?

Bear Grylls had climbed Mount Everest at 20 something.
At 30 I had achieved zilch, diddly squat, jack effin’shit.

I couldn’t drive.
Still working the same old job, which I resented.
No career.
No skills.
No hobby.
Just your everyday plodder.

Realisation is a bitch.
It was my life.
I was wasting it by the second and only I could do anything about it.

Within a month I passed my driving test.
Quit my job, made sure I had a new one lined up first – priorities.
Began typing.
Became more of an attentive father.
Learning whatever I wanted to now became an obsession.

I want the most out of my life.
That’s what the “meaning of life” is to me – I’m all in, and I’m going to experience the fucking lot.

WANKER AT WORK

As I arrive to work he’s there. Standing like a Superhero. With a creepy, fucking annoying smile that only someone of his shitheadedness could possess.

Only instead of Clark Kent, its Clark Kunt and he’s come to ruin the fucking day.

As I enter he makes some stupid remark;

“Oh, ur in are ya”

I mutter cunt under my breath.

He always arrives to work extra-anally-early. Its so he can be the first one there to open up the place. Its his A-Word quirk.

Once entered he switches the lights on and deactivates the alarm system. He tells me he can have all of this done under 5 seconds.

Before I’ve even hung up my jacket. He’s bothering me.

Hovering around like a fly trying to find a place to land.

Invading my personal space with his breath that reeks of the owners arse.

More people arrive to get on with the job at hand. They also receive the same annoying welcome.

I don’t choose to be here. But dreams don’t pay the bills.

The pay is dogshit and I loathe the public. Having to put on a fake polite performance all day is tiresome. The customers sap my mental capital – although I’ve learnt to tolerate them. I call this – coming to work meditation.

I’m trying to enjoy a cup of coffee, and low and behold, he’s there again.

Popping up like whack a-mole. If only I could find the rubber mallet.

Continuously informing me of the benefits of Camomile tea. I DONT CARE! He carries on regardless.

Afternoon. Lunch Time.

I’m eating. He comes in and also starts to eat.

He begins to start talking with a mouth full of chewed up chicken. God only knows what he’s saying. It’s inaudible. Talking about his hobbies maybe.

Could be some new innate knowledge that for some reason, he thinks he has to share. Whatever it is, it’s probably pointless dribble.

He persists.

With every bite he snorts. Resembling a hungry tramp who’s wolfing down lukewarm chips that they’ve found from out of a steel litter bin.

I spend the remainder of the day trying to avoid him wherever I can just to run down the remaining hours.

Work Finishes. Finally. Another day, Another dollar.

We all leave. I head off. Got a bus to catch.

See ya later.

I walk towards the busy rush hour road. Traffic whizzing past in both directions. I need to cross over, so I can catch the bus that takes me the fuck home.

Finally, there’s a break in the mad- mundane – everyone – darting home – so – they – don’t – miss – an – episode – of – Eggheads – traffic.

I take one step.

It hits me. A speeding car not an epiphany.

Crashing into me, I get knocked off my feet and tossed into the middle of the road.

I hit the floor. Now don’t get me wrong the pain is fucking excruciating.

Paralysed I’m lying in the road. I hear commotion from the driver.

“He just stepped out, I didn’t see him, is he okay????”

As I lie there I begin to see a light, and its more than likely from the headlights from the car that has tore me a new one. Every part of me is motionless.

Like speckles of rain that land on a car windshield the darkness gradually starts to disrupt my vision.

Its here, the final curtain. My time is up. Death has arrived and it came in the form a Nissan Micra.

Numbness comes to the grand finale. I feel the last beat of my pulsating heart. As the air leaves my body I deflate like a broken bouncy castle.

I hear a voice. Could it be God himself? No.

It’s Clark Kunt;

“I don’t think he’ll be in tomorrow”

Is this it?

You wake up. Go for your first piss of the day. It’s highlighter yellow with a strong scent of sugar puffs.

Half-arsed you shake your tackle.

There’s urine on the toilet seat that you were too tired to lift up. You’ll wipe the piss dribble off with a piece of arse napkin – that’s if you remember.

Holding on to the sink you look at your depleted reflection in the mirror.

You contemplate about going downstairs, you’ll go in a minute.

Not to grab yourself some breakfast but to go and loll on the sofa and contemplate some more.

You yawn.

“Best get ready to go to work” you say out loud.

Still with no intention of doing anything you just stare into the abyss of the mirror.

Focusing on your aging face. Aware that minute by minute you’re eroding away. With the same reccurring thought that you have every morning.

Is this it?

Non parents are annoying

Non Parents AKA your parents, siblings or close friends.

Most of the time they seem to get more attention from your child than you will.

When Tilly and my good lady got to know one another and began interacting. Not gonna lie, I was proper pissed not to mention jealous.

Once I took a step back and observed both of the loves of my life interacting, playing, painting or whatever games they conjured up. Even though im left on the side line with a sulk on. It melted this shabby heart of mine.

There’s a reason why Tilly see’s my good lady as a better alternative when we’re all present. Its because a light bulb moment has occurred in Tilly’s 5 year old brain. She sees my good lady not as second mother, but as an ally. When the two of them are together, Tilly feels safer in numbers, and becomes more mischievous – not in a little shite kinda way although she now sees this as an opportunity to gang up on ole Daddy-o, because in her mind i’m now outnumbered.

Your child isn’t after replacing you,

or maybe they’re…

Whether it be Aunties, Uncles, Grandparents, friends of the family, etc. Non parents are a vital part in a child’s life. Not only for the interaction. But also they can give Mum/Dad a chance to break off for five minutes to regain focus, take a deep breath, grab a quick caffeine fix, do some chores or even sneak off for a hard drag on a nicotine stick – remember go down the bottom of the garden at all times think of the kiddies lungs.

When your child is interacting with the individuals who are present at that time. They are not only after some sort of stimulus and to make new allies, but to learn and play without the need for discipline from their MA and PA.

Remember non parents aren’t the ones for setting the bar for rule and regulations and how to act accordingly.

That’s not their role. When you’re a parent that’s your responsibility.

Non parents are your child’s new companion, their new plaything, the new must have. And with knowing and understanding this. I no longer feel the need to feel jealous or feel as if i’m being pushed out of the picture, I always know I can get involved and can play too. But while they are busy I’m gonna pour myself another coffee.

HUG A HULK

Is your child acting up?

Are you about to lose your shite?

If so

Be the bigger person.

Be kind,

And

Remain being the adult in the situation at all times.

First things first;

NO SPANKING

NO SHOUTING

Be cool and in control for most of the time anyway.

(I say most, because somedays we lose our shit, that’s okay, we are only chimps after all)

Why though?

If shit hits the fan with you and your child, which it will. They will test you beyond belief.

And if you lose your cool – the road to recovery can be a long journey to get back to the main road. So stay neutral.

Your child needs someone who they can come to when feelings beyond there comprehension are abundant.

HUG A HULK

For those who don’t know who the Hulk is, firstly where have you been hiding? Have you been locked away in the basement or living the Amish way of life?

The Hulk, scientist Dr. Bruce Banner is an all round nice chap.

However, as soon as Banner becomes a little aggravated, a red mist descends upon this passive fellow and he transcends into one giant green meathead son of a bitch.

Your child is just like Banner.

Like Banner who’s superpower is fuelled by his uncontrollable rage.

Your lil legs will be happy until their uncontrollable laying dormant feelings erupt.

So how can we help?

Whilst being empathetic hug your over emotional Hulk.

Show your child that you love them, it doesnt have to be in some tree hugging hippy fucktarded way.

This will convey to your lil amigo that not only do you give a shit, but you’re their anchor in this chaotic fucked thing we call life.

After all you’re their safe space. Their light house to help navigate them and to keep them on track.

If you don’t help them, not only to become social, mannered and masters of their own feelings, then they will only turn into feral meanders.

FATHERS MATTER OR DO THEY?

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Of course Fathers matter.

However, society and the way in which the world operates, it conditions ol’ Pops to think his main purpose in life is to pull himself away from his family, feel unwanted and become just another number in the machines economic grind.

Well Daddy-o. As Bob Dylan once crankily sang “The times… they’re a changin”.
Forget what you’ve been taught. Your main responsibility is to be the best Father you never had and be just that to your little amigo.

I’m already doing a better job than my Dad ever did. I mean, after the first two weeks when my lil lass was born, I’d held Tilly more than he had ever held me.

He only went to the shop for a loaf of bread, and has never been seen again. Cheers Dad – see ya, mate.

“The nurturing abilities of fathers are seldom acknowledged, and even more rarely encouraged.” ~ Lawerence J. Cohen

Anyways, back to it.

To be totally honest, as strange as it may sound. I should thank my ex for calling it when we did. It makes me appreciate the time I have with my lil amigo.

I look after Tilly, unaided away from the comfort of her Mother as a safety net. It made me roll up my metaphorical sleeves and become more of an attentive, hands on Father.

You see, when the Lil lady was born, I assumed her Mother would know the ins, outs and the how-tos when raising a child. Come on, don’t judge, men ain’t trained for this shit.

Fuck my life how I was thrown arse first into the thunderdome. I wish now that I had read more of those parenting books.

Being a part time parent really put my shit into perspective. Making me realise of the possible damaging implications that it could cause to my Lil lass if I wasn’t about.

My Dad not being there over time to help muck in, well it fucked me up. But we’ll leave that for another blog, maybe.

Dads you need to be there, not only as someone who brings home the bacon, but gets down and hangs out, to be silly, who roughhouses, to play, who wrestles, who paints, draws, sings, dances, reads, be there to listen, to protect, to comfort, to offer advice, to teach, to guide, y’know – Parent.

What I’m getting at here is I think Men in general when it comes to parenting, leave the nurturing side to Mama, and take a step back. But in doing this we miss out.

So don’t take a step back, stay committed and keep the connection with your child.

Remember guys, you are a parent too!

And your child needs you. why should Mum have all of the fun?

SEPARATED PARENTING. DON’T GIVE YOUR KID THE SCRAPS.

 

Many children nowadays are raised in an environment in which their parents have called it a day and have decided to separate. In most cases they just get on with the task at hand and work together to raise their child without any qualms.

However, this isn’t always the case. Some parents you come across are complete shitheads and become too concerned about the battle than the main issue at hand; raising their child.

I myself separated from my lil lass’s mother. Now, me and her mother do get on fine. And that’s what makes “Co-parenting” work. We get on. For the sake and the well being of our daughter. But isn’t that the point?

You both have to focus on working to raise that lil amigo – at the least harmoniously.

Resist being at each other’s throats, acting ape like – throwing your own shite at each other, pointing fingers and constantly hurling abuse. Just realise who the main casualty will end up in all of this – you guessed it, your child.

So what can you do…

AGREE

At least agree on one thing, that is to be civil. Get along for the sake of your child.

Now, the key to this situation is simple. If the pair of you have any squabbles, fucked up emotions or animosity towards each other – put that shit aside, out of sight, forget about it, it’s gone. After all, you’re meant to be the grown ups.

Your child is more important than your unresolved shit. Get your crap in order.

Time is running out

When working together as co-parents or if you’re still cohabiting with your baby’s mother/father. Understand, the older your child gets, the less time you will have, especially with the usual crap getting in the way, you know the inconveniences that will pop up. Such as work, school and not to mention, life. Your time with your child will become more precious.

So make sure when you’re parenting, it’s of the highest quality. Its what they deserve. They deserve the best parts of you. Not the scraps.