Didsburydad's Blog

From the not so mean streets of M20, blog about being a dad, Didsbury and dealing with parental confusion

Archive for the tag “Valentines Day”

That Was Valentine’s Day

Teenager, Toddlers – the scent of romance drifting somewhere between the intoxication of Lynx, the unmissable waft of teendom and several nappies. I don’t know whether to this heady brew, a night separated only by two little ones, a door and a hallway has worked its magic, but Didsbury Dad Mansions has been a cocktail of the many splendours of love this Valentine’s weekend.

Didsbury Son would obviously rather spend half-term cleaning shoes and brushing up on his German grammar than discussing his growingly exotic, mainly online new relationship. There was a tryst arranged and neither brought as many friends as usual as they awkwardly swapped cards and insecurities in public view, before heading back to the anonymous safety of social media.

We are not yet at the Valentine’s stage I used to love when a squeaky Blondini Didsbury Son would artlessly shape toast into hearts, sprinkle them around the kitchen and then be delightfully easy to distract for an hour with The Simpsons but…

There are scrawled reds on papers and lots of singing Happy Birthday as a card or two appears.

My life is currently made up of three films. Taxi Driver for Didsbury Son whose many pick ups and drop offs range between shy and hopeful perfectly coiffed, nice smelling girls and the silent teen-boy waft of those no longer capable of speech and addicted to the sound one finger screen tapping.
Entourage for The Mighty-Headed boy. The collection of toys (in sequence), blankets and tins that he requires for every room to room movement really needs an assistant. This morning I thought it would be nice to get him into bed for a cuddle. Once the cast of Frozen, John Lewis’ blanket department and various detritus had been transferred from cot to bed there was no room for either of us.
Frozen, still the soundtrack to our lives, the dress code for our children and the tunes that keep me awake at night.

My Valentine’s Day involved changing nappies, wiping noses, being told off by teenagers and having a candle-lit gourmet dinner with two other couples. High Court Judges pay a fortune for this kind of opportunity and we get it everyday in Didsbury.

Dressed by Disney, driven by Anna and Elsa.

What you look like to a teenager during any discussion.

IMG_3428 the opening scene from Entourage.


There are easter eggs in Tesco and I am already struggling for a Valentine’s Day poem. THe FA Cup 4th Round is on Saturday and that is what I love about this blog, it keeps me current.

Christmas Day:
6.30am and Didsbury Son is bright and excited; gorgeous and gabbling. Didsbury wife tries to be earth motherly and friendly and her gargantuan effort spurs me into adulthood. I slip downstairs with Didsbury Son avoiding the room where Santa visits to make tea and check the turkey has slept well. I usually become emotionally attached to the turkey by Christmas morning. I see the prepping and bating as more Viking funeral pageant than cooking.

This is what I have learned about Christmas. All dads, Didsbury or otherwise take note:

1. Do as you are told
2. Do not answer back
3. Be patient
4. After the Age of 21 sprouts are only good in single figures
5. Keep making cups of tea until instructed otherwise.
6. You can never go wrong with The White Company- maybe I should work there instead of John Lewis

I did very well this year. My prizes beyond some fantastic grown up gifts are a football shirt in a size that fits. A new team-shirt always brings a tear to my sad rheumy eyes. As I squeeze it on and feel momentarily elated, I am once again living the dream. My other star gift is a football trivia book so banal and niche that they may as well have called it “For Didsbury Dad only”.

We now have four days in a cottage in the snow. The thought of lying on a couch with an air of sprouts hanging over me reading a “Where are they now” book of failed 70s reserve players who have probably forgotten themselves that they ever played once in 1978 fills me with the unfettered joy of a 9 year old opening the i-Pap he had written to Lapland to secure.

My gifts went down so well that only one is going back for a refit. Didsbury dad, wife and Didsbury son share a couch, a joy and have presents of interest only to themselves. The perfect Christmas.

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