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I’m gonna kick you, punch you, vomit on you and unconditionally love you

July 24th, 2009 · No Comments

In the last year, I have been dribbled on, sneezed on, vomited on, coughed on, punched repeatedly in the face, kicked repeatedly in the fun department and had the freedom to leave the house late at night with no warning taken away.

Another way of saying that is “A year in the life of living with my daughter….” rather than “I am the top prisoners personal bitch”.

Yup.  Nearly a year ago I became a proud Dad.  Since then, I have become painful with my digital camera, and am the typical proud father who doesn’t care about your kids because mine is even greater than I am.

But, being a father instead of just the super awesome guy I was has opened my eyes a little.  I noticed that someone so small (that’s my daughter, not me) can seemingly make everything bigger…and in some cases more painful.

Take the list at the top of the post for instance.  Let’s go through them.

Being dribbled on:

We have all had that injection given by a dentist 10 minutes before he rams his hand down your throat and while feeling around inside your lungs says “So.  How are you?  Been up to much?” while you dribble uncontrollably all over yourself.  But compared to a baby, it’s nothing.  To my daughter, the act of dribbling involves two things.  1) Has Dad just got dressed?  and 2) Where is the food that makes me dribble like an over excited Saint Bernard dog?  It goes everywhere.  I swear some days I can be at work after not seeing her for hours and yet it is still dripping from my hair.

Being sneezed on:

Everyone sneezes differently.  You have those people that feel it is an embarrassment to sneeze, so a noise like someone squashing a plum with a spoon leaves their head.  Others feel the need to shake their head as they sneeze…I am guessing in some attempt to act like a sprinkler system for their germs?  And then there are the ones that make a noise so loud you would think that they were being beaten with a potato masher at the same time.  Not my daughter though.  She prefers the “Oh, look.  There is Dad.  Right in front of me.  I wonder what that tickling sensation is in my nose?  Oh…hang on…..” and then with one deft move, she tilts her head back and then with one fluid motion (literally!), she projectile snots all over me.  Normally straight at my face, but again, if I have just got dressed, I am left with congealed snot all over me until I change.  It’s when I dont notice and a few hours after being at work, I take a toilet break and when I look in the mirror, there it is.  A new lifeform.  I once found something resembling the early hours of penecillin on my shirt.

Being vomited on:

Now, I already did a post about one of these incidents which is HERE.  But it still amazes me how something so small can somehow empty it’s entire stomach out in one move.  And to date, she has never EVER thrown up when she isn’t sitting on me.  Maybe I should get the hint and change my clothes/cologne/deodorant…or maybe even start using the latter two.  I am more concerned about the smug look she has on her face just after the removal of breakfast/lunch/cat hair from her stomach.  It is like the whole thing was planned.  Granted, normally I am very ill or very drunk when I throw up, but I can’t say I ever smiled, winked and trotted off to play with my toys after doing it.

Being coughed on:

When I cough, I cover my mouth.  When other people cough they may keep their mouth closed and be quiet and unassuming.  Other people need everyone to share the leftovers from their lunch by coughing so hard you end up with half masticated chicken and a piece of their lung on your face.  Not my daughter.  It’s a game.  Recently she will crawl up to me, climb on me, smile and then cough right in my face.  And again.   And again…actually, until I copy her.  Then she will wander off.  Happy in the knowledge that I am now like a trained poodle who does whatever she demands.  I have never seen myself as poodlesque, but there is time.

Being punched in the face:

Living with my daughter is like being in a relationship with an S&M master.  I have been less bruised after spilling my pint over the local nutter in the pub than I have with stupidly taking a nap when my daughter is crawling about the bed.  She will in general just crawl over and hit me as hard as she can.  So far I am only mildly bruised.  Unlike my wife.  She, for some reason, decided that she would be safe to grab a cheeky two minute nap by giving our daughter a mobile phone to play with.  Except now…my wife has a black eye.  Yup, Mum isn’t paying me attention, so I will crack her in the head with this phone.  You can see the looks of “oh, the poor woman…accusing the child when her husband is blatantly beating her” all over strangers faces.

Being kicked in the fun department:

Unsurprisingly, in the last yeah my daughter has grown.  So will someone please explain to me how the hell she manages to keep her feet in just the position that when she is tired and trying to nap on me that she can kick me square in the joy department.  I am confident that if I was to ask her if she wanted a brother or sister, her answer would be “By the time I have finished, you wont have anything left to make another baby with”.  Another thing that confuses me is why do baby shoes seem to all have metal toecaps?  They sure as hell aren’t soft.  If she doesn’t end up in a job that involves kicking (preferably not me), I will actually be a little disappointed.

So there you have it.  Kids.  They are something to be amazed at while being a weapon of mass destruction all rolled up in to one cute little package.  Cue attaching a couple of pictures.  If you come here for the witty writing, I apologise for never managing it.  If you come here to escape stories and photos of other peoples kids…erm…too late, just don’t look below this point.


© 2009, Sy. All rights reserved.


Tags: General Madness