Category Archives: Parenting

Return of the Living Dad

It’s been more than four years since my last post.

During those four years, my two sons – the cornerstone of this blog’s five-year existence prior to its recent hiatus – have grown to be 14 and 12. The elder one is now such a strapping young lad with a broken voice that, at times, I mistake him for a grown-ass intruder who raids our pantry, fridge and the internet download plan. The younger one is also at the beginning of a growth spurt, and even sports a faint moustache that looks drawn on by a pencil (apparently some women do that … above their eyes, not their upper lips). The days of me lifting them up, dangling them upside down and giving them good’ol wallopings are well and truly over. The boys certainly don’t require the degree of helicopter-parenting that I practiced when they were younger because … apparently they know everything under the sun and I’m just a nagging, cranky old man who doesn’t even know what Discord is.

Also during my four-year absence, my passion for running – the other cornerstone of this blog – waned considerably. What used to be a three times a week activity has reduced to once a fortnight … at best! I could blame the tardiness on my knees, my weight, my blood pressure, and the alignment of the stars relative to my daily bowel movement. But, NGL (I learnt this from my sons, look it up), I have no physical impediments to running whatsoever. I’ve just been bat-shit lazy! I still visit the gym religiously. But my wife thinks that’s only because I’m becoming more vain and narcissistic, thinking I can trade her in for a younger model. Judging by her demeanour, my wife is not worried … at all.

The problem then is this: if the two cornerstones of this Joggingdad blog (Jogging and Daddying) are withering away, what is left to write on this blog? I’m certainly not going to talk about my career which is speeding towards a place called Dead End, or my marriage which is slowly leaving a town called Damn Kids’ Fault.

But I’ve also come to realise the lack of any personal achievements in the past four years, except a shitload of time watching Netflix, scrolling social media and listening to podcasts – endeavours which have done nothing but make me even more of a nagging, cranky old man. To be fair to myself, I did try a few things in recent years, such as learning to play the guitar and having a go at stand-up comedy. But I quickly realised the right side of my brain is comatose and better off left alone.

So, I’ve decided to write again.

Write for fun, write to vent, write in zest.

I may even start another blog, writing on some reflections of life, the inevitable crisis in the middle of it, and the sheer lunacy of the whole shebang. All this, hopefully, leading to a fully-fledged published book in due course.

NGL, it’s going to be a long journey, this writing caper. But the time has come for me stop bitching and moaning about all the content on Netflix, social media and podcasts, and start creating my own.

Keep on pounding.


Growing old is mandatory, growing up is optional

Thanks to her, I had no blank space on my back for a few days!

Thanks to her, I had no blank space on my back for a few days!

Despite being 41 going onto 60 in biological terms, I still behave like an 18 year-old going onto 8 in maturity terms.

I was abundantly reminded of this during our recent family holiday. At all the fun parks, I was often the only adult shoving kids (including my own) aside to get on the best rides. I am the only parent at the resort acting like silly buggers with my boys in the pool. Even during meal times, I couldn’t help but fight over French Fries with the kids, and drawing an exasperated expression of “Oh, grow up!” from my wife. Continue reading

The Breakfast Club

The Boys Club

Boyz n the Mood

Every Saturday, I take my two boys out to breakfast at a nearby café. It has been our ‘Boys Club’ ritual ever since they were both able to walk without me having to carry them halfway, and I was able to talk without them having to ask where mummy is.

Indeed, their mummy enjoys this ritual possibly more than we do, as it gives her an opportunity to sleep in on Saturdays. This is hardly surprising after five arduous mornings of getting the two cranky little boys ready for school before she goes off to work herself in a cranky mood. Continue reading

No kidding

They certainly will ... you can your ass on it!!!
They certainly will … you can bet your ass on it!!!

When I am driving, I often look in the rear mirror and see my two little sons, aged 7 and 5, staring back at me from the back seat with their irrepressible cheeky grins. And every now and then, I would lean slightly toward my wife on the passenger side and whisper: “Honey, you notice those two boys back there? Who are they and where did they come from?

It is one of the many running jokes between us since we have become parents. Indeed, I often find it incredulous that we have children, given that my wife and I still behave like ditzy teenagers who probably wouldn’t get a job as babysitters if our lives depended on it. Continue reading

Say you, say me

I have my own favourites ... and they're nowhere near as eloquent!

I have my own favourites … and they’re nowhere near as eloquent!

Last Saturday, we drove out for a grocery shopping trip. It is something we seem to be doing at least twice a weekend, with each trip ending with a trolley full of food and a wallet full of damage. I often wonder whether my wife is conducting a business on the side, harbouring backpackers in the house, because the amount of grocery we go through is just astronomical.

As I was about to reverse the car into a space in the underground carpark of the mall, my wife suddenly complained: “Honey, why do you always park in rear first? It’s very inconvenient later on, you know, when we’re loading the shopping bags in the boot. There’s never enough space between the rear of the car and the wall“. Continue reading