Never been happier

Despite the early mornings, interrupted nights, never being able to sit down and constantly worrying about how every little word I say could have a huge impact on them, the best thing about being a Pseudo Dad - or any dad for that matter - is how all of this can just melt away with a smile or a few loving words.

Leaving the house today The Boy and The Girl were waving goodbye to me. The Girl shouted "Bye Daddy," a slip that has happened before as I've known her since she had just turned three. I have honestly never seeked to encourage it, because as bad as Biological Dad is, he's still her dad, and us insisting that I am also her dad could only confuse her. But when she said it today I just turned around to say goodbye, deciding not to mention what I thought was a slip. "But you are like a daddy to us," she said, clearly having said it on purpose. "And you're like a daughter to me," I said without thinking, but meaning every letter of it. I know we'll have tough days ahead, a la "You're not my Dad," but I've never been happier.

Shot down

Just went up to The Boy's bedroom with him so he could show me something he'd made. I noticed he'd broken one of his toys so I had a look at it to try and fix it, but it was too broken. "You're not clever enough to fix it," he said, "Daddy could, because he's cleverer than you." I know it shouldn't bother me, but it has. Biological Dad is a moron. He left school with nothing but GCSEs, didn't bother working for five years, and even when he did he couldn't keep a job. This clever man now answers the phone in a call centre for a living. I know The Boy meant nothing bad by it, but I can't help but feel chopped down.

Back to the future

Just watched Back To The Future with The Boy and The Girl. There is nothing better than seeing their faces trying to understand why there are two Marty McFlys. Just a good job they didn't see this version...

Big tum, bad bum

Bit of a scare today: When Mum picked The Boy up from school his teacher warned her that he may have bum troubles. The Boy's school had a chef come in to teach them about food. He made them all a massive fruit salad, but rather than take a little bowl like everyone else, The Boy basically pulled up a chair and started to dig in.

And this isn't the first time we've had problems with him and food either.

When he was seven-months-old he basically stole a plate of Fairy cakes meant for everyone at his cousin's birthday.

When he was turning two he ate so much food at TGI Fridays that he kept filling his nappies non-stop and had to be put in the bath, which he filled three times.

Then last Christmas, he ate so much at his playgroup's Christmas party that he was hospitalised. He vomitted for hours and became dehydrated, so had to go on a drip and spend the night in hospital. On top of that, he refused to take the liquid paracetamol so they had to push a pill up his arse.

And the thing is, he isn't fat, or even any of the euphamisms like chunky or big-boned. He's just a normal little boy except he can take on his own body weight in food like when you see a snake ingesting a bison.

But tonight feels like a reprive. He's just gone to bed without squirting all the fruit back out. Yet.

Why you should watch your words

After a long time using birth control last night was the first time Mum had her period in a while. Needless to say the sudden influx of hormones meant she wasn't at her usual calm best, and snapped at The Boy when he kept asking silly questions about everything she did.

I decided to explain to The Boy and The Girl what was wrong with Mum, as I believe that even if they're too young to understand the logic, they're at least old enough to understand that there IS some logic and won't feel as hard done by. I explained that mummies have an egg in their tummy which is where a baby grows from, but when there isn't a baby the old one needs to come out so a new one can grow. I explained that the only way it could come out is if it was bled out, and - although it's nothing to worry about - because mummy was bleeding a little bit for a week she would be a bit grumpy because bleeding is isn't nice.

After explaining this to The Boy he proceeded to tell us that when Mummy "lays" a baby it might be a boy or it might be a girl. Got to love his literal interpretation, I guess.

Shattered

The Chimps have been off school today for a teachers' training day, so Mum has been working from home to look after them. But not even a full day's work compares to just the two-and-a-half hours of Chimp time since I came home.

After a trip to the park we let The Chimps watch Ice Age, but The Boy can't just watch a film. Heavens no. He has to ask questions about every little detail. Who's that? Why's he doing that? Is that man he's fighting his friend? Why isn't that man his friend? Agghhhh. I hadn't even been watching the simple-as-piss plot about a crotchedy loner becoming friends with a social outcast, how the hell should I know?!?

Getting them to eat tea was like trying to convince George Bush that simulating fellatio on Vladimar Putin live on Fox News would be good for his image, but we stood our ground when it mattered and conceeded when it would have been vicious to have continued.

Finally, after what seemed like six years hard graft in a Russian POW camp they've finally gone to bed. And I'm shattered.

PD

The irony is delicious

Well, Biological Dad dropped The Chimps off and told Mum that The Boy needed new shoes in a very patronising way. Needless to say we don't need parenting advice from a man who drops The Chimps off still wearing the same socks they were dropped off in on Friday.

Thankfully, they seem better than they usually are after they've spent time at his. So far, at least. Although The Girl did ask him to phone her more - well, more than the four times in one year, at least. His reply: I can't, because I have to work really late and then I'm on the bus. His career? A 9-5 call monkey in a customer services centre.

He really does care too much.

PD