I want to talk about being a parent. Why? Because it’s the hardest and happiest job I have ever had and I also have it for the rest of my life.

Now for the people out there that actually read this blog; firstly I am very grateful. Secondly, some of you may actually be parents, or thinking about becoming parents. I don’t know if I can offer any life hacks with this, except talking about my experiences.

My experiences as a parent, are also as a father. This means I have been called “Da-da, Dud-dud, Dad-eee, Daddy, Dad and Oh no, I meant the other one!” I don’t know about you, but I walk around with a lot of emotions and thoughts, relating to being a parent and my children. UMC1 is now six and attends primary school, while UMC2 is three and goes with my wife to Playcentre; which is an ECE learning centre, but it’s run by parents.

With UMC1 and UMC2, we try to raise them the same, but that’s not really possible. Because of this, parent life has proved to be…well, interesting. There have been several conversations and incidents that are seared into my memory involving my kids. Conversations that I never thought I would be having with another human being, but equally experiencing a truly insane moment with my children.

To start the ball rolling, do you know what a meconium is? Basically it’s a newborn baby’s first poo, which is a dark green colour. At the birth of my first son, I wore a Superman t-shirt at the hospital, because, well, I’m a geek. Anyway, after UMC1 was born and he had a cuddle with his Mum, I was allowed a turn.

We all forgot about the meconium, so I was horrified when it happens. However my wife, midwife and nurse thought it was hilarious. I had to wash the Superman t-shirt when I got home, to remove the kryptonite infused poo. Twice. Welcome to parenthood, Daddy!

The universe was listening and watching that day, because 3 years later, UMC2 relieved his meconium on my wife. He enjoys hearing the story about the time he did a poo on Mummy.

Let’s now look at some unique conversations that only a parent could experience.

One conversation went like this:

UMC1: Daddy, can you sell people?

Me: Well, you can sell your time to people. That’s what work is. You trade or sell your time to other people for a job and they give you money. You can do that. But no, you can’t actually sell a person, because you can’t own a person. There are laws about this, a person can’t own another person, so you can’t sell them.

UMC1: Ok, but what if they are really annoying?

Me: Oh, I get it. Let’s clear this up right now. We are not selling your brother, alright? We are not getting rid of him. He’s a part of this family, he’s your brother, we are not selling him. Ok? Whatever the problem is, we can sort it out.

UMC1: It wouldn’t work out, so that’s ok.

Me: What do you mean?

UMC1: UMC2 is useless, no one would give him a job anyway.

That was a situation where I didn’t know if I should laugh or cry.

UMC2 is quite into threats at the moment. By this I mean if you ask him to do something that he doesn’t want to do, he may threaten that he’s going to “…put you in the rubbish bin, so you’ll eat garbage” or my favourite is when he doesn’t like what he is hearing, so he will say to me “Put your words back in your mouth.”

When he is doing a jiggly dance and refusing to go to the toilet, he sometimes threatens that he’s never going to poo ever again. It’s very difficult to keep a straight face when this occurs.

There is also another aspect of parental life that nobody ever warned me about: farts. An example of this is when UMC1 is sits on me and farts. Once UMC1’s fart was so powerful, not only could I smell it and hear it, I could also feel it. I mean, it was like my leg had been dipped into the Bog of Eternal Stench.

Another time, UMC2 was sitting on my head while wrestling, then he decided to fart on my head. Has anybody ever does this to you? It’s a horrible feeling, especially when UMC2 rolled off my head and started running to the toilet, while clutching his bottom and shouting back to me, that he does not need to go to the toilet. Stinkor and UMC2 have a lot in common.

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Socks are proving to be an ongoing issue in our house; or should I say missing socks. I would put some socks and gumboot/shoes on UMC2, then strap him into his car seat. By the time I have walked around to the other side of the car; opened the door; sat down; closed the door and put my seat belt on; all of UMC2’s socks and footwear are off. Seriously, they are all off! His normal excuse is that his feet were melting. It’s like he’s been training with Mister Miracle, the way he can escape his socks.

Also when folding the washing, I find socks that belong to the boys, but they have no partners. This is not a new problem to the world, however would Black Panther or Wonder Woman ever have this problem? The frustrating thing is that I can usually find the missing sock later on, however they are usually under a bed, behind a door, in the toy tub, in the dog’s Fortress of Solitude, out the dog door, behind the couch or in the firewood basket. I feel like I’m Lara Croft searching for treasure in my own home.

Which leads us to lack of sleep. I remember years ago and before I had children, someone suggested that I sleep as much as I could, because I wouldn’t have another good night’s sleep for 18 years. I smiled and laughed at this. Oh, I was very naive and stupid.

I also believe UMC2 may have superhuman powers. The reason is because before my wife and I go to bed, someone always checks on the boys, because they share a room. Once in bed, we fall asleep; however at some point in the early morning, I would wake up and discover UMC2 has teleported and is fast asleep between my wife and myself. He can neither climb into our bed, as quiet as a ninja, without disturbing anyone and goes to sleep or he can just teleport. I choose to believe he can teleport.

Try and imagine also, you are lying in bed asleep, when someone starts kicking your head and your body, because apparently they don’t have enough room in the bed, even though they are lying sideways or pretending to be a starfish.

And somehow it’s my fault, UMC2 will point out, that he can’t sleep because 1.) I am breathing too loudly, so I need to stop breathing and 2.) He doesn’t have enough room, so I should leave the bed and sleep outside.

Or UMC1 is awake and reciting different songs from school or experimenting with making different emergency vehicles sirens. Then later on at work, colleagues have to ask why I am having energy drinks for my morning break: it’s easy, my children believe that sleep is for the weak and I am very, very weak.

All and all, it’s fun. The insanity of living with two small people that believe the height of comedy, is the smell of a dog that has rolled on a dead crab or the highest level of cuisine, is a plate of hash browns and nuggets; means as a parent, you need to remember to laugh at the crazy parts. Just don’t let your children see you laughing at what they’ve done, otherwise they will keep on doing it, until someone gets hurts or gets told off. Whatever happens first.

Anyway, thank you for reading and I’ll see you next week.