Your eyes. Usually so bright and cheerful are blurred and dreary. It is these eyes that look at me now. I return your gaze and I see confusion and exhaustion and a pleading look that says, “Daddy, make me feel better.” You see, you are sick my little one. Your mother knows more about your illness than I do, but all I see is one sick little girl who wants her Daddy to make her feel better.

I so want to make you feel better Sweetheart. In my mind, that’s what Daddies do. However, I cannot just make your awful illness go away. Instead, I smile a sad smile and I pick you up and bring you close like I’ve done a thousand times. Only this time your feverish skin is hot to my touch. Your whimpers mingle with the wheezing echoing in your chest from each short little breath you take. Your little arms wrap themselves around my neck and you hang there, in my arms, and rest. You can breath now and I can feel the never-ending flow of mucous ooze from your little nose and onto my shoulder. I don’t mind. It’s a small price to pay for your moment of rest here in your Daddy’s arms. I kiss the top of your head and I feel the heat in my lips.

After a short while I change you and take your temperature. Usually, you are very playful when you get your diaper changed. Lately, you’ve been more irritable than anything else. Today, however, you are passive. You let me clean you and give no sign that you feel the thermometer I’ve inserted. 102.4 it reads. I sigh and prepare another dose of children’s Tylenol. You take it easily and I am comforted to know your fever will subside and you’ll feel a little better.

I scoop you back up and we look at each other once again. I smile, this time bigger, and you, my little one, try gamely to smile back. It’s your nature to smile and even in sickness you give me the tiredest smile I’ve ever seen. I love you for that. And I feel so special that, even when sick, you want to give your Daddy a smile.

I can see you’re ready to sleep. I put you into your bouncy chair and gently rock you. You fight it at first. You thrash back and forth, crying a cry I have not heard before. I calm you down and you start to drift to sleep. I stay there, watching you sleep as your tear-stained face becomes motionless. Your eyelashes, while always long, look even longer when wet. You look like a very tired little angel sitting here before me. At last, your little body rests. I continue to rock the chair and gaze at the most beautiful girl in the world. Every now and then you open your eyes and glance at me, as if making sure I’m still there. Once reassured, you drift off to sleep again.

Don’t worry little Swee’Pea. Your Daddy isn’t going anywhere.

You know you really need a haircut when your sideburns could accurately be described as mutton chops.

Maybe I’ll apply to be an extra in the local production of “A Christmas Carol.”

Six months. Half a year. 182 days, give or take. 1/36th of time it will take ’til they head to college.

Now, as I understand it, milestones will be happening faster than Swee’Pea’s runny nose over the next few months. But, the books say at six months your child can safely start solids. And when I say “solids” I mean a watery, soupy goop called rice cereal. So, with the six month birthday on Monday, we decided to get a little early start.

I got out the high chairs. I got out the cameras (video and digital). I got out the bibs. I got out the cute little bowl along with cute little spoons that were gifts at our baby shower nine months ago. I had some extra breast milk. And, I had a brand new box of Gerber’s rice cereal. We were ready.

I had never seen rice cereal before. I imagined it was like cream of wheat. I gave the box a hard tilt towards the tiny little bowl on the counter. Oops. Who knew that rice cereal looked like soap flakes? Soft, light as a feather, flakes. Flakes that were now all over my counter. I cleaned up the mess and got back to mixing the goop. Soon enough we had a about 4 tablespoons of goop and we were ready to rock and roll.

Bri went first. Andrea got the honors while I ran all around attempting to get the perfect shot of her first bites. Only she didn’t bite. Her mouth stayed wide open as goop slipped from her tongue. She seemed to notice this. She glanced down at her bib and went to lick it up. Andrea kept shoveling at her and she kept letting it run down her chin. Finally, Andrea got wise and started scraping the spoon off the top gum. Finally, Swee’Pea kept some in her mouth.

Meanwhile, TheMonk is watching all of this with much interest. It soon becomes apparent that Swee’Pea is getting something that he wants! He starts to make noises to get our attention. As Andrea spoons goop into Swee’Pea’s mouth, TheMonk opens his mouth, as if to say “Over here! Over here! Put some of that goop in here!” It’s as cute as hell. See for yourself…

So, it appears TheMonk is ready for food. We decide that Swee’Pea is done so Andrea and I switch places and I get ready to feed TheMonk. The books tell us to give the baby his own spoon so he won’t try to grab the spoon coming at him. What the book should have said was to give the baby two spoons because TheMonk immediately started to grab the spoon as soon as it came at him. I bobbed and weaved and managed to slip the spoon into his open mouth. The kid was born for this. His lips closed around the spoon and he sucked the goop into his mouth. He wasn’t sure what he was eating but he was sure he wanted more. We repeated the same steps. I’d bring the spoon near, hold fend off the grabbing hand with my free hand, and slip it into his mouth.

Before we knew it, our little milestone had come and gone. The messes were cleaned and the babies were put to bed. Andrea and I snuggled on our chaise and giggled like children as we watched the video for the first time. I have a feeling it won’t be the last.

I got the highest of compliments from Swee’Pea upon returning home from work yesterday. As she saw me for the first time she got really excited. Her eyes lit up, her body wiggled in anticipation, and her arms and legs flailed about.

Yes, I got the same reaction she usually only reserves for Nutmeg the cat.

I’m feeling pretty good about this.

Nutmeg the cat

My nephew, Thomas, was born one year ago today. He came one month and an IHOP dinner early.

Happy Birthday Tommy. Your uncle loves you.

It’s a new kind of scary when you look into your 6-month-old son’s crib in the morning to find him lying on his stomach for the first time. And it wasn’t a comfortable, “I’m just sleeping”, lying on the stomach. No, it looked like a body found on the streets of one of the many television crime shows on nowadays.

Needless to say I quickly checked for vitals. However that was unecessary when TheMonk turned to look at me. His look said, “What? Can’t you see I’m sleeping here?”

I’ll make this short.

Find a family or a guy really obsessed with finding the “perfect” tree. Follow them around as they look at trees. Don’t pay too close attention ’cause it doesn’t really matter what they do until it comes time to make a decision. As they finally narrow their choice down to two, get ready to pounce. As soon as they make their selection grab the other tree.

You now have the second-best tree on the lot and you didn’t have to go through a hundred trees to get it.

Oh, and have them cut an inch off the bottom for better water absorption while you’re still at the lot. Waiting to do it at home because you don’t want to wait in line only to find your little hand saw is pathetically inadequate to do the job so you end up using a jig saw and carving little one inch by one inch squares is just wrong (Not that I would know anything about that).

As part of our new morning routine, Andrea leaves for work before I do. It is my responsibility to get the kids together and deliver them to daycare. After Andrea left I gathered them on the floor and lightly tickled their feet. We giggled and laughed at each other. I gave them kisses as they smiled up at me. I couldn’t help but feel guilty. Little did they know that in less than 30 minutes I’d be leaving them with a total stranger.

As I gathered them up to put them in their infant carriers for the 10 minute ride to prison daycare I held each of them close and told them how much I loved being with them the past five weeks. TheMonk nibbled his fingers and then reached out with his slobbery hand and grabbed my nose. He smiled as I mockingly grimaced at the slimy fingers on my face. I gave him a big noisy kiss as he squealed in delight and set him into his carrier. Next, I picked up Swee’Pea and she clung to the back of my neck and nuzzled my cheek with hers. I held her a little more tightly than usual and inhaled her familiar scent of lavender lotion with a hint of breast milk. I kissed her as well and soon she was buckled into her carrier. I stood up and took stock of the room. All the bags filled with diapers, formula, changes of clothes and similar items were already in the car. I gave them their stuffed monkeys that they have grown to love – the same monkeys that Andrea and I had slept with the night before to make sure our scent lingered on the one toy they would bring with them. I glanced down to see two little faces looking up at me expectedly. I smiled and they smiled back. “We’re going bye-bye, babies.” I said. With that I picked up both carriers and took them out to the car.

Before I knew it we were on our way. The drive to the daycare seemed long and short at the same time. Thoughts of my past five weeks flittered through my mind. I tried not to think too much about all that I would be missing in the coming days, weeks and months. Milestones yet to be achieved that could easily happen in front of someone that we’re paying to watch our kids. Crawling, first steps, first words. Would we hear of these from the daycare provider? I hoped not.

As we arrived at the house I gathered them up along with all of the bags. I must have looked like quite a sight as I struggled to gracefully carry two bags and two infant carriers to the door. Once inside we were greeted warmly by the daycare provider. Two one-year olds were already there. I set the carriers down on her couch and we got them out one at a time. I held TheMonk first as I gave him kisses while he surveyed the room. Soon enough I handed him off to the daycare provider’s eldest daughter who helps her mom at the daycare. TheMonk didn’t seem to care who was holding him (Couldn’t you care a little TheMonk?). He smiled away as he took stock of his surroundings. Ever the curious one, he was in heaven at all the new stimulation. I now turned my attention to Swee’Pea. The daycare provider and I huddled around Swee’Pea in her infant carrier. As I reached down to unbuckle her she was eyeballing the daycare provider something fierce. “Wow, look at that look she’s giving me!” says the daycare provider. It is a look of uncertainty mixed with skepticism. She almost looks angry as she stares up. I take her out of her seat and give her kisses. She isn’t sure what’s going on and I don’t get my usual smile. I hand her off to daycare provider. Swee’Pea accepts this but her expression doesn’t change.

The next 10 – 15 minutes were spent going over their schedule and their likes and dislikes. I presented daycare provider with a printed schedule and tips on how to get them to sleep. I also gave her a small spiral notebook and asked her to write down when they nap, poop, and if anything neat happens that day. She says she will.

While we are doing this, TheMonk has forgotten all about his old man. He’s being entertained by the daughter and is checking out the two one-year olds in the room. I come back and kiss him goodbye. He smiles and I smile back – bravely. I don’t want to smile but I do it anyway. I turn to Swee’Pea as we get closer to the door. I take her in my arms, raise her above my head and she smiles at this. I feel better having seen her smile and I give her one last kiss. I hand her back to the daycare provider and say my final goodbye as I head out the door.

I get in my car. I sigh heavily and sit there in the silence of the chilled morning. After a few seconds I start the ignition and drive away. Two blocks later a single tear falls down my face. I take a deep breath and continue to work. I tell myself, “This will get easier.”

Who on earth doesn’t agree that Chocolate makes it better? No matter what IT is, chocolate, in its many forms will do you good my friend. And no one knows that better than my friend Peter. This bloke from Down Under is the most caring of fathers and I love reading his blog Chocolate Makes It Better with a strong Australian accent echoing in my head. Now, to top it off, he has joined the Great Eight over at DadCentric where you can catch him from time to time. I was thrilled when Peter agreed to share what an Australian Christmas was all about. So, break out the sunscreen, pull out a vegemite sandwhich and enjoy.

Christmas Down Under.

The haze of a summer hangs low on the horizon while white fluffy clouds meander past in a floating line. The smell of freshly cut grass infiltrates my senses. The sounds of children playing in the backyard fill my ears. It’s early and it’s already hot. The night before was sweltering and the storms the weatherman predicted didn’t happen, leaving a low muggy heat hanging in the air.

I look out my front window and see children riding new bikes, laughing and yelling in the morning heat. My wife is cutting up slices of icy cold watermelon for later in the day, humming her favorite song and smiling at our daughter who is shoving another slice of vegemite on toast into her mouth.

“Honey, what time are we going to our parents?”

“I told you last night, we have to pick up the seafood then get some petrol. After that we can go, so we should get there about 11.”

When we arrive it’s sweltering. We walk up the driveway with the sun beating down on us relentlessly. I’m starting to wish I didn’t leave my thongs in the car as my feet are starting to burn on the concrete.

“Hi, Mum” I say as I kiss my mother on the cheek. The smell of food wanders across my nose. Chicken, ham, nuts, chocolate, it all smells good. My wife walks through the door with a bag full of presents. “Hi Sue” she says as she happily offloads the heavy bag. “Hi Love, how are you? Would you like a cold drink?”
“Yes please, it’s so hot outside!”

“Muuuum” I call from the kitchen “Do you want a hand with anything?”

“Yes please love, can you pull apart that cold chook (chicken) and put it on the yellow platter.”

“OK, have you got any beer in the fridge?”

“Yeah, in the one in the garage.”

As I crack open my first of many cold beers for Christmas day, I hear my daughter playing in the lounge-room while my wife tries to keep her away form the Christmas-tree and the presents that lie enticingly underneath

After helping prepare lunch I say enthusiastically “Should we open our presents?”

“But it’s almost lunchtime.” My mother says, knowing that this won’t make any difference.

“C’mon mum, you’re up first”

We sit in the lounge-room and hand out brightly wrapped presents to each other, all laughing and smiling. All of us are sharing the half melted chocolates and lollies we open, knowing that once Christmas is over we will need to start exercising again. Everyone gets a present each and opens it with great enthusiasm. I let my daughter sit on my lap and help rip open the wrapping of all my presents as she squeals with glee and delight.

Once the presents are all opened we make our way to the table for lunch. Ham, chicken, prawns, crabs, Moreton Bay bugs, salad, bread rolls, butter, potato salad, nuts, curried eggs, coleslaw, corn, asparagus, beetroot, fresh fruit, cheese and crackers, cold beer, fresh lemonade, lots of napkins, chatter and full bellies – All cold, all fresh and delicious.

We talk about family and tell funny stories. Drink too much and laugh too hard. It’s a time we all come together to share and enjoy each other’s company on a very hot day with a big lunch.

This is Christmas in Australia.

Dear Swee’Pea and Monk,

I go back to work on Monday. I spent the last five weeks learning so much about who my little ones really are. Somehow, along the way, I learned who I really am too. Monk, you are a curious, introspective little guy who gets a little frustrated when learning new things – but you keep trying anyway. I love that about you. Swee’Pea, you love to laugh. You like to interact with others. You reach out to touch your brother whenever he’s near and you love the cat – just like your mother. How could I not love that? And for me? I learned that I love being your father in every sense of the word. I also remembered that I love being your Mommy’s husband. I love being part of this team. We do good things together.

On Monday you’ll be starting daycare for the first time. I have been thinking a lot about this new chapter in your lives and I have a story for you that I think is important for me to tell. My first job out of college was a low-paying job as the personal assistant to the publisher of a small oil and gas publication that catered to large oil companies. Ed, the publisher, was a very demanding man who wasn’t afraid to tell you that you messed up. Ed would yell at you if the mail was in the wrong place on his desk. He’d get upset if you couldn’t get him something in a timely manner. And Lord help the poor copy editor if there was a mistake in the weekly publication. Now, you’re probably wondering why I would be telling you this and what does this have to do with you going to daycare. Well, you see, in addition to being the publisher of a lucrative oil and gas publication, Ed was also the father of a son and a daughter who, by the time I started working for Ed, were both in college. My first week on the job Ed explained to me that, no matter what, if his son or daughter called I was to put them through to his office. I nodded in understanding – “No matter what.” I said. Later that same week Ed happened to be speaking to the Prince of a Middle Eastern nation. Since I was not accustomed to speaking to royalty on a regular basis, I was rather impressed that a prince would be calling my boss. Soon after, Ed’s daughter called. I didn’t put her through to Ed like he had instructed me to do. I assumed the prince was more important than speaking to his daughter. I assumed wrong. Let’s just say Ed let me know in no uncertain terms that I was never to do that again. Nothing was more important to Ed than his children.

Monday I will take you to a daycare where someone besides your mother and myself will take care of you for the first time. I am sad that I will no longer be there for you when you cry. I won’t be able to hold you close when you’re scared. I won’t be able to shower kisses on your smiling face as we celebrate your latest accomplishment. No, I won’t be there physically but, please, please, please, know that I will be there in spirit. And also, please know that, just like Ed, I will drop anything and everything if you need me.

Monk, you are MY prince. Swee’Pea, you are MY princess. If you need me, just call. The receptionist will know to put you through.