kids

'Daddy's home, and now they've forgotten all about evil Mummy.'

Do you hear that? I think I hear time itself stop….

… Oops. My bad. It’s the front door.

D A D D Y’ S H O M E ! ! ! !

Here he is – the man of the hour – swanning in through the front door with his nonchalant swagger (and rugged good-looks), full of pride and joy watching his little mini-me’s race each other up the hallway to see who can get a hug from him first.

Hey guys, don’t mind me.

Yes, I’m talking about you, Daddy. Daddy wearing the tired but contented look of a man who has worked the day away in a safe little office. Perfectly protected from biting babies and defiant Threenagers. Deaf to the incessant questions of the curious kindergartener. Superbly shielded from the snotty smears, the tearful tantrums, the mind-bending negotiations [and brain explosions] that have taken place in our home for the past ummm… let me see… T E N H O U R S.

But Daddy’s home. Three cheers for him.

via GIPHY

You totally deserve ALL the adulation of our kids. You deserve to open up that front door and with merely the sound of your house key, flick a magical switch (which I can’t seem to locate) that instantly turns our kids into ‘perfect-child-mode’. You deserve to see them bursting up the hallway, jumping out of their skin in excitement as you walk in, screaming ‘Daddy’s Home’ as if I hadn’t noticed. As if the long reign of tyranny from Yours Truly has finally come to an end and they are now safe and F R E E in your arms.

Don’t mind me. Can I get you a beer?

LISTEN: We talk to Lehmo about life as a new dad. Post continues after audio…

Clearly, Daddy, you da top dog in this household – with a capital D. But enjoy the fame and glory while it lasts ‘cos it’s as fickle in here as a Real Housewives Reunion Special and I’m watching, waiting, willing your bubble to burst. Why? Not because I don’t love you. Not because you aren’t the best Daddy I know. But because at this time of night I’m a bitter and twisted itch with a capital B. And frankly my dear, it’s just not fair.

Let’s examine the kids’ definition of us as evidenced by their behaviour:

Mummy : a villain who says ‘no’ to everything fun and makes us eat broccoli
Daddy: a tirelessly hardworking hero who turns up just in the knick of time every night to ‘save the day’ and rescue us from Mummy’s evil clutches.

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TODAY has been one of those days… I feel it’s impossible to be ALL things to ALL people. It’s all a bit overwhelming and I feel stressed and anxious. But these BEAUTIFUL faces make ME just push through ????even if they are literally ripping and clawing at me and my head is a mess ••••••••••• One of the main reasons I decided to start blogging about being a Mummy is to connect and share real moments, and to say that it’s OK for things to be stressful and scary || while also being beautiful and incredible ✨ It doesn’t mean I’m a bad Mum. It doesn’t mean my kids are naughty. It’s just REALITY and I think it’s soooo important to feel connected to others who one day feel like they’re smashing all facets of their life ???? But the next day feel it’s all crumbled to pieces ???? •••• Thank you to the Insta community I’m part of, and new and old friends following me. I love being part of this online sisterhood! There’s definitely strength in numbers ❤️ . . . #honestpost #honestmummy #todayisshit #tomorrowwillbebetter #mummyblogger #mommyblogger #keepingitreal #mygirlies #knightmumblings #instakids #instamummy #mumsofinstagram #mumsofsydney #aussieblogger #lifebecraycray #lifebebeautiful #mumofthree

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Are you picking up what I’m putting down, dearest? I’m the one who’s refereed 10 hardcore smackdowns this afternoon, who’s dressed, nursed and bandaged four injuries, (two of which were imaginary but just as life-threatening), and who’s talked down terror-style hostage situations like a consummate professional.

But. Don’t. Mind. Me.

Huge congrats to you, Daddy. And keep up the good work with your I’m-so-calm-under-pressure voice. Our children think you’re some type of Demigod who can turn rain into rainbows, so why should I be any different. Why should I be envious?

Oh, did I mention that dinner tonight is a big pot of GET-IT-YOURSELF? Should even be enough for seconds. If you’ll excuse me, family, I’ve got some ‘work’ to do in my ‘office’ (read: taking a stupidly long bath with wine and locking the door).

Don’t mind if I do.

This post originally appeared on Knight MUMblings and was republished here with full permission. 

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