The Silly Side of Being Ready For Fatherhood

That isn’t meant to be a segue into how difficult/beautiful fatherhood is. It is. It absolutely is. It’s not that all the horror stories and foretellings of woe go unheard, it’s just that so many less fortunate parents have done it, so we think surely it can’t be that bad!?? Right? I was warned about the sleepless nights, the illnesses, the nappies, the everything - more times than I care to remember and funnily enough they all came true. So I choose rather to focus on what I found one of my greatest sources of joy, how I’ve completely and unashamedly embraced the silly side of life again. You know the kind of silly that you haven’t enjoyed since you had to pretend you didn’t like watching power rangers (thanks Mum and Dad for giving me a younger brother). 

There is precedent for the adult yearning to be silly again, most likely you find it in your Mums kitchen. The annoying poster that says something along the lines of ‘Dance like nobody is watching’ or to a less obvious yet more annoying extent ‘Carpe Diem.’ But nobody outside of the influence of performance enhancing drugs actually abides by this rule. Until now. And unfortunately I fear it’s going to have a shelf-life of max 10 years, before the shame-wash of the adult world inevitably strikes my own children so it’s time to make hay!

You might sing your lungs out in the privacy of your own car. Well since my little sproglet came along, the car doesn’t quite manage to contain that enthusiasm. The soundtrack may have changed, but singing the theme to Pooh Bear whilst picking out flavours of pouch yoghurt is now a thing. Not exactly sure if the public mind, I’m sure a number of them do, but I’ve found that not only does my young one enjoy it, a few random others do too! My daughter is two years old so I guess to them this is considered acceptable behaviour. Yet now imagine she isn’t there. Would you expect anyone else to cheer me on?

Not to mention play parks. If you’re like me you haven’t stepped foot into a Macca’s play zone since you breached the recommended age. You probably also haven’t wanted to. Well guess what new Dad’s... the cheeseburger is now your secondary reason for going. Sure the sign says for children ages 3-12 but there aint no playland police for this, now you’re being silly AND a rebel! The other dirty secret I have is the fact I find myself at Bunnings more than cafes these days. Sorry Bunnings sausage, you’re no longer the prime reason you’ll find me here (still love you though.)

The grand final for the newly-crowned Dad is undoubtedly Fathers day. If you had a silly-card credits before, well they quadruple on Fathers day. If you’re lucky enough to have your daughter create you something at daycare, you wear that item. If Mum spoiled you with a silly t-shirt. You wear that shirt. You wear that hard. And I don’t mean in the comfort of your lounge room, you still like being taken out for lunch. I promise you, no bartender with their salt will give you a hard-time for wearing a ‘Dad-joke supplier’ t-shirt with a hand crafted cardboard tie and the only thing legible on it is the word Georgia that was clearly written by Miss Ricky (and also has buttons for some reason??)

Alas all good things are bound to come to an end though. She’ll no longer enjoy my singing, she’ll too outgrow the play park and heartbreakingly I’ll probably get better crafted presents. I know I’m destined to become the embarrassing Dad, and I will try my best to keep my embarrassment level below 7 but I know I’m going to slip-up. The world is just too boring to not Dad-dance, it’s too delicious to not have a Dad-bod and dammit, it’s just too darn short to not have Dad-jokes.

After writing this now I feel like contradicting myself. It feels too trivial and self-centred to say that I’ve enjoyed being silly so much. It is without doubt my way of showing my complete and hopeless devotion to my family, that I don’t care so much about the way I am expected to behave, if it sparks joy for my family to show my love in public, I don’t hesitate. As luck would have it turns out the public aren’t as conservative as what we think. So to my darling wife, to my Georgia and my soon to be Jephph, please accept this as my pre-apology, for I am sure to misjudge the appropriate time that I am meant to reign it back in.

Make Sure you vote in the Grow Medical 2019 Essay Competition by going to our Facebook Page, and liking and sharing your favourite Story of Fatherhood.

See our other finalist essays on the privilege of fatherhood and being a father and a grandfather.