What is ‘it’ all about?
I have a hobby.
A hobby that could be viewed as pointless, given the amount of time that it takes out of an already hectic life.
One that can be seen as selfish, as it ostensibly benefits no one but myself.
A hobby that has no end goal attached to it, and no clear place in the grand scheme of things that is life.
A rather mundane form of exercise that can, nevertheless, both frustrate and exhilarate, often at the same time. Continue reading
My six year-old son L is turning seven next month. Last year, I was the official organiser of, and the entertainer for, his birthday party – an event that was held in our backyard with 30 of his friends and cousins (plus his then four year-old brother).
Now, son, let me tell you something about this “Game”.
This year, however, I have been dumped from these duties by my wife. The list of grave errors from 2012 that led to my dismissal in 2013 is pretty long, although most were honestly unintentional.
For instance, I didn’t know that one was suppose to fill the pinata with lollies and goodies. I genuinely believed that the lion-shaped papier-mache that I bought for last year’s party came with all the sweets already pre-loaded. Of course, I only realised my momental mistake when the kids finally smashed the pinata wide open, only to be greeted with nothing but air. What greeted me afterwards were 60 hostile eyes from the children, as well as plenty rolled-to-the-back-of-the-head ones from the parents. Continue reading
My dear wife was recently away in Connecticut and New York for 10 days. If you ever wanted to get as far away as geographically possible from Sydney, you go to Connecticut and New York. When she first dropped this bombshell, the woman said it was for work, that she needed to put in some “face time” with the big honchos in the head office and build some relationships.
I don’t know whether she realised it at the time, but she was feeding me the very same line that I feed her whenever I go away on some overseas junket. Judging by the hours she spent writing up her long shopping list, I wasn’t even sure where she was going to find the spare minute to put in any “face time” with colleagues, let alone build any relationship. Continue reading
Every night between 10.30 and 10.50, I perform a task. It involves tiptoeing into my six
No, no, no Mr Joggin Dad, you’re doing it all wrong, wrong, wrong!
year-old son’s room, carefully carrying my sleeping first-born in an upright position to the bathroom, with his head resting on my shoulder. Once there, I pull down his pyjama pants and sit him on the toilet so that he can do his night-time relief – something he rarely fails to do even though he is usually still in dreamland. I then carry Prince #1 back to his room, tuck him into bed snuggly, and repeat the whole exercise with Prince #2, my precious four year-old second son.
“You know, you shouldn’t do that! You should allow your children to learn to visit the toilet at night by themselves“. Continue reading
$129.
That was the amount of money my wife and I spent on our innocent date night a couple of weeks ago. And it came to that amount only because we snuck our two boys into my in-laws’ house and ran out before we could hear any protests. That little antic saved us at least $80 in babysitting money to a stranger, who would probably have eaten another $40 worth of my junk food stashed in our house.
Still, how did it add up to $129 when all we did was have dinner at a cheap and cheery Lebanese restaurant, before watching Iron Man 3 at a cinema?
Let’s see, we went first to the restaurant to eat. And because it was so cheap and cheery, I virtually ordered half of the menu. And that was just for my wife, who’s on the slender side but can eat like a rhino. I, of course, ordered the other half of the menu just so that I don’t make my wife look bad with all that food in front of her. When all the dishes finally arrived, our table looked like a Klump family dinner scene from The Nutty Professor, except devouring them was a couple who could probably both fit into Klump’s trousers.
Dinner: $74!
JOGGING DAD 