Please Vote For My Dad

The Weekend Picture No. 44

Vote Dad Etc ... Please!

I got a very nice surprise on Monday.

On Monday I discovered that I had been shortlisted for an award.

I have never been shortlisted for an award before so did not know what it would feel like.

Now that I have been shortlisted I can tell you that it feels great!

The award I have been shortlisted for is the "Brilliance in Blogging" Family Blogger Award. I am one of 16 blogs vying for your vote to be named family blog of the year!

To be shortlisted I needed to be nominated first - so if you nominated me - THANK YOU.

I now have one more favour to ask - before you click off this page - would you mind casting your vote please? All you need to do is click on this link, scroll about half way down the page and tick Dad Etc in the list of Family blogs.

That's it, job done!

If this is the first time you have visited Dad Etc and you are not sure whether you want to vote for me then here are three of my favourite posts - have a read and then ... well, it's up to you.

This is the post when my 7 year old daughter, E, teaches me the importance of empathy for our fellow man.
In this post "The Signs of Spring" (my daughters) can't help competing with each other.
And in this post I share a secret I was once taught to a happy marriage.

Thanks so much again.

Speak soon
JH

Is The Glory Worth The Pain?

Dreaming of Olympic Glory (c) BBC

I put M through torture this week.

I blame the Olympics!

One of the aims of London 2012 was to Inspire a Generation. The vision of Lycra clad superhumans winning gold for Team GB was meant to inspire the slovenly youth of the United Kingdom to get off their settees and try something new instead.

Well it certainly had that effect in our house. Particularly with the sporty spice of the family - 10 year old M.

Since the Olympic flame was extinguished she has joined a cycling club (Laura Trott), thrown herself into Netball, thrashed us all in innumerable running races and expressed a desire to join the school's Hockey club.

It is all fantastically inspiring.

But, Hockey is a game that features sticks and balls.

And sticks and balls do not get along with pearly white, perfectly formed teeth.

So, the responsible parent gets themself online or down to the local sports shop to purchase a piece of brightly coloured rubber called a gum shield.

Said parent then carefully reads the instructions before fitting said shield without a hitch, a tear or a moan.

And said sporty daughter is then ready to plough her sporting furrow to Olympic Gold.

Hah!

Well that's what it says on the box.

That's not what happens in the Dad Etc household when Dad is in charge.

This is what happens when Dad is in charge:

Dad reads the instructions carefully and heats the orange and blue plastic in boiling water until it reaches melting point at which point he rams it into his 10 year old daughter's mouth causing her to writhe and scream.

He then tells her not to worry because "this is what is supposed to happen" and squeezes her cheeks against the molten plastic with one hand whilst forcibly closing her mouth with the other and counting to 20 elephants as she squirms in agony.

Finally, she swills cold water around her mouth and tests the gum shield for fit.

Unfortunately said shield did not stay in place so Dad had to read the instructions again, dump the shield in freshly boiling water and do it all over again.

Sadly, as proved in my post, Why Mum Knows Best, Dads sometimes just get it plain wrong.

I tried twice more with this miracle of modern engineering, each time failing to make the shield stay in place, each time chastising my daughter for not biting hard enough or squirming too much.

Finally, unable to bear it any more, my wife rode in to save the day. She immediately spotted that our little M had a new tooth coming through (how did she know that?) - so was unable to close her mouth properly, scooped her onto her knee and made everything all better.

Dad meanwhile cursed his lack of feminine intuition and retreated to the shed to try to fix something inanimate.

Speak soon
JH

PS I am very delighted to announce that Dad Etc has been shortlisted for the Brilliance in Blogging Family Blogger Award run by Britmums - hence the rather flashy looking button at the top of the Blog. I am up against some very tough competition (15 mummy bloggers and me - it takes a brave man!) so would be eternally in your debt if you felt that this blog was worth a vote. You can vote by clicking on the button above or by clicking here. Thank you so much - and fingers crossed.

That Is a Mad Eye Deer

The Weekend Picture No. 43

Mad Eye Deer at Longleat

We were at Longleat Safari Park two weeks ago.

We saw lions, rhinoceroses and hippoes. Our car was sat on by monkeys and we had meerkats ducking between our feet. We laughed at the porcupines and the anteater.

But the highlight for the Dubmeister was Mad Eye Deer. Halfway round you get to pay to feed the deer. You pull onto the side of the road and, in a reverse of a MacDonalds' Drive Thru the Deer gather by your car window, mouths open, napkins around their necks and knives and forks at the ready.

The greediest of the deer was Mad Eye who worked her way through our bag of treats without pausing for breath.

She is called Mad Eye Deer because  ... Well, you see if you can work it out.

Speak soon

JH

Being a Dad Has It's Perks

Party Ring Anyone?

Like many prestigious roles in life the role of Dad is not without it's perks. Here are my 5 mostly shallow perks of fatherhood.

Tastier than Keira?

1. Dads get to go to kids' films

Fed up with movies with plots out of a Dostoevsky novel. Squeamish about blood and gore? Rather laugh at a cute monster than lust over Keira Knightley? Get to be a Dad - because Dads get to watch kids movies and kids movies are clinically proven to be better than films with subtitles and/or a dark subplot.

2. Dads get to eat party food

There is no greater taste on earth than the flavours created by factory boffins to adorn kids party food. The brightly coloured delights that are Party Ring biscuits, Iced Gems and fruit jelly just beg to be eaten by the discerning gourmet and as a Dad at a birthday party you get to choose your own treats and eat as much as you want.
Just offer to clear up after the party guests have gone and hoover the sweet treats before anybody else gets their hands on them.

3. Dads get to watch their kids perform

Dads are men of rock. Their bottom lips are rare to wobble and their tear ducts are criminally underused. However, put a Dad on a touchline or in the audience when their kids are the stars and you see a different beast altogether.
Watch them swell with pride and choke back emotion as their progeny relives the dreams of their dim and distant past.

4. Dads get to read bedtime stories

If I ever get invited onto Desert Island Discs and am asked what luxury I would take to my desert island I know exactly what I would ask for:

• A small child (preferably one of my own)
• A book - one of the Bartholomew Bear stories, Dr Seuss or our current favourite - Pippi Longstocking.
• For the time to be fixed permanently at 7.30pm

There are few things as bonding as reading to your child just before bedtime. We started when the Dubmeister was 2 weeks old and we haven't looked back. I am lucky enough to be home before my kids go to bed most nights - and the nights when I don't get to read to at least one of them feel much emptier than those when I do.

5. Dads get to be heroes

Every man needs to be a hero and as a Dad you get to live the dream. The dads of pre-schoolers bask in the glow of toddler adulation as they wield a hammer with expertise and panache (in their children's eyes). For a precious period everything we do is wonderful. Every muscle we own is taut and every car we drive is faster than Lewis Hamilton's.
Man was made to bask in a dose of glory and the Dads of the very small get soaked in it.

from www.alotedbabe.blogspot.com

Speak soon
JH

PS More musings on being a Dad Alone here, on the changing relationship with our children here and a list of reasons why Dad Knows Best here.

In Praise Of The Children's Party Industry

The Weekend Picture No. 42

Can you guess how old E is?

E had her 8th birthday party today. Since she could speak she has been desperate to have a birthday party at our fabulous local leisure centre. The response has always been: "Not until you're 8". Well, now E has turned 8 we had run out of excuses so Daddy got onto the phone with his flexible friend and booked a Secret Agent party for 14 excited little girls for today.

We have never had birthday parties so easy as we did today.

We wrote the invitations.
We posted the invitations.
We paid the money. And that was about it. Because once we turned up this afternoon we mostly just stood and watched.

And then we came home.

The kids had a great time. Our house didn't get trashed and somebody else cut the crusts off the sandwiches.

It started getting a little hairy at 4.40 when the party had 10 minutes left to run and the food had all gone - but a quick game of Chinese Whispers averted any meltdowns and eased us home to parental pick up time.

We have always loved hosting children's parties but there is a lot to be said for chucking cash at it instead.

Speak soon
JH