The funny side of family life
Five days ago. My little girl was at 30,000 feet. Somewhere over central France. Then she turned left and landed in Rome. Without her Mum and Dad. Without a posse of schoolteachers. Just Jessica and two of her friends.
At 17 years and 10 months – give or take a day – my daughter had let herself loose on Europe. The Eternal City welcomed Jessica.
How did I feel about it? Relaxed. Resigned. Nervous. Anxious. Terrified. Excited for her. [Read more...]
“So,” I said to my beloved, “That’s what we’ll do. We fly to New York, hire a mobile home – ”
“An RV you mean.”
“Ha ha, Dad. You’ll be just like Meet the Fockers. Careful you don’t flush the dog down the toilet.”
“Thank you, Ben, I don’t need your intervention. Your Mother and I are planning the rest of our lives.” [Read more...]
Here’s the inescapable logic of being a parent.
I was feeling guilty.
Why was I feeling guilty?
Because I wasn’t feeling guilty.
And if you’re a parent you will instantly understand that apparent piece of nonsense… [Read more...]
You know that moment. We’ve all been there. You’re staying in a hotel. The little credit card thing they’ve given you instead of a proper key isn’t working. You swipe it. Or touch the key pad. And the stupid light flashes red instead of green: you’re locked out of your bedroom.
“Come on, come on,” I said. “I’m fed up. I’m tired. I need a shower. Let me in.”
Two Dutch accountants walked past. Saw a middle-aged Englishman talking to his bedroom door. Shook their heads sadly… [Read more...]
Kar-ma: the cosmic principle according to which each person is punished or rewarded in each incarnation according to their behaviour in a previous incarnation.
Or more simply: the cosmic principle according to which parents are punished by their teenage children according to their own behaviour as teenagers.
It’s the only possible explanation.
Sometimes I think that Jessica was placed on this Earth for the sole purpose of making me suffer. [Read more...]
There is a basic flaw at the heart of our marriage. A fault line. A fissure. It goes like this:
When I am ill I need sympathy. I need someone to pop in every ten minutes or so and see how I’m doing; make me a cup of tea (if I’m strong enough, obviously) and then go to the corner shop for some Lucozade. And most important of all, tell me that I am incredibly brave: that virtually no-one in human life has suffered as much as I’m clearly suffering at that moment.
My wife, on the other hand, likes to be left alone. [Read more...]
Let me just pop into the Tardis and travel back a few years.
Early September. 2008, I think. Almost certainly a Monday. Around 4:30 in the afternoon.
I am at home. The front door opens. My lovely, lovely children are home from school. The first day of the new term. Oh joy!
“Hello, darling,” I say to the first person through the door. It is my beautiful 13 year old daughter Jessica. “How was your day at school?” [Read more...]
My office. A cold morning in March. The phone rings.
“Hi. You don’t know me, but I’ve been reading your blog. I really like it and I wondered if you’d like to speak at a conference.”
Pah! I thought. They’ll have to do better than that. My birthday was only a few days away – if this was the best my teenage children could do by way of a wind-up call they had a lot to learn. [Read more...]
I am delighted to announce that there may shortly be a picture of my buttock on the internet.
Barack Obama and I – just a couple of normal Dads – have been having a chat about how to be the father of a teenage daughter. Well, not strictly. The newspapers have been reporting the President’s views and I’ve been muttering to myself. But that’s almost a chat.
As you know the Pres has two daughters – Malia is 14 and Sasha is 11 – and like all fathers of daughters, he’s been worrying. His hair is turning grey – with you there, Barack – and according to his wife, his daughters are to blame. [Read more...]
Stress levels in our house are rising. Tempers are getting frayed. And my wife has left me. More of that later…
It started on Thursday night, when Tom wandered downstairs.
“Mum…” (Mothers will know the tone of voice. Mum-I-should-have-asked-you-this-before-but-I-was-on-the-Xbox.) “Mum, I’ve some washing needs doing.” [Read more...]
