I Am That Dad

At the weekend Noah's little cousin Imogen came to visit which was lovely even if it was too brief.  We haven't seen her (or her mummy or daddy) for ages and being nine months younger than Noah, she has just entered that stage that all babies go through, the "you're not the usual adults that hang about the place" stage. Specifically she was wary of the big, looming, beardy man claiming to be her so called "uncle James" that excitedly whisked her into his arms for a cuddle. It wasn't long however before she was practicing her standing and clutching on to my fingers for support. It was also at this point that Noah displayed a new kind of behaviour for the first time. He became jealous. He made some sort of screechy grunting sound and ran over before interjecting himself between little Imogen and myself, waving his arms like he was warding off a tiger. Perhaps that is exactly what he was doing, maybe he was being protective, keeping me safe from this ...

This weekend we celebrated my father's 60th birthday. Apart from the sobering thought that if I had become a father at the same age as my dad, I would have a 17 year old son by now, it got me thinking about Noah's heritage. Happily my dad and our relatives before him have also been interested in this subject and have already compiled a mountain of information; it's truely like an episode of Who Do You Think You Are. I won't bore you with it here, but it turns out that Noah is the first and possibly only Reilly of his generation and thus the responsibility for the continuation of our line lies with him. The name of Reilly we can trace back to the early 1700's and there have been a number of prominent people along the way, lords and sirs and Captains and Colonels. I feel more research is warranted for the Reilly family, but the real mystery is my mother's side. Who are the Robinson's? I know nothing beyond my grandfather whom was a carpenter and car factory f...

So, it has been a long time since I have written anything about being a dad.  In that  time Noah had learnt to walk, continued to not eat much, spoken a couple of words and sentences he seems to have subsequently forgotten and become incredibly clingy to his dad (yes that's me). I can't go to the toilet, let alone work without much crying and griping. Which is strange in itself, I feel enormously good in myself when all Noah wants is his daddy, and then extraordinarily tired when the realisation hits that 'daddy' is the only one that he wants. As a father this is a pivotal moment, something to be cherished, something to be remembered. This is the moment you are important, you must remember this, seriously, it's a turning point in your baby's development. This is the first time that you trump the boob and if your child is a boy, possibly the last time you come before a boob for years to come. Yes, for the first time in 14 months I am wanted before mummy and...

So a week has gone by, it is time for Noah's second swimming lesson, and I realise I haven't got around to writing about the first one last week, other than to say I wish I could have been there. Needless to say, he completely loved it, squealed with excitement for the whole lesson, and showed absolutely no fear about being dunked etc. The woman taking the class commented that in the 25 years she had been doing this, she had never seen a baby as excited in their first lesson. I of course am delighted and have been trying to work out which Olympics he will be ready to compete in... In 2028 he will be 16.

If you were just reading the titles of my last two posts, you might think I was discussing the short lived 80's action TV show Manimal in which a man can shape-change into various animals, a man/animal, Manimal, get it? Or perhaps a really rubbish boxing quote trying to emulate the great Muhammed Ali but not quite getting the context right; its not quite got the same impact as float like a butterfly, sting like a bee... Anyway, I'm actually talking about Noah's first swimming lesson which is happening right now as I type and I am desperately sad that I cant be there with him. He loves splashing around in the bath and isn't too bothered about getting his face wet like a lot of babies are, in fact bath time means that everyone and everything in the vicinity of our bathroom gets a soaking, but I know that right from the start in lesson one he will be dunked completely and that is bound to be a little scary for him. I want to be there not only to...

Last week Nikala called me whilst I was at work to tell me Noah had pulled himself up on the sofa for the first time to reach his favourite toy, the TV remote control. Another first missed by me, but this is something I know I'm going to have to get used to and is the lot of all working parents. Unfortunately Nikala wasn't able to get a photo for posterity and although he tried several times over the next few days, he didn't quite manage it up onto his feet again, at least not whilst I was at home. That is until a couple of days ago. Again it was the lure of the remote that compelled him. If I could just reach a little bit further... There it is, its within my grasp... Right, now what side is Pointless on? I love that Alexander Armstrong guy, very witty. Blast, caught red handed!

The weekend before last we took a family trip to the Horniman museum in Forest Hill, which is one of my most favourite museums in London. It is was originally a private collection of curiosities that a Victorian gentleman had gathered from around the globe and there are loads of little treats to discover, including a fake merman and a somewhat threadbare and mangy looking walrus. What a way to be greeted! This Japanese merman was declared a fake just in case you were fooled.. In addition to the natural (and unnatural) history, one of the halls is filled with musical instruments, and an  activity room where children and even overly excitable adults can play a selection of the more bizarre of them. Noah is particularly fond of bashing stuff, definitely a little drummer in the making. So he found this pipe and flip-flop setup especially fun. More things to bash! Us dads were more keen to play these wooden frogs...

Noah has been talking for a couple of months now. I say talking but I am fairly certain anyone other than one of his parents might dispute the authenticity of the words he has learnt, but nevertheless Nikala and I can understand them and right now, thats all that matters. Of course like all of his key achievements and advancements, as a working dad I usually miss all of his "firsts". However, Nikala claimed one afternoon that he clear as day said,  "Up" and like most everyone else, I must admit that I was somewhat skeptical even upon hearing it later myself, it was possibly just a similar sound he was squawking. Then, shortly after that, a matter of 2 or 3 days even, his 2nd word came and this one I was clear on. "dadadadadadadada" obviously calling for his daddy. I was delighted, I was the first parent he called by name, well sort of, how great this is! Another couple of days later and I realised that Nikala may well have had a dastardly plan from the s...

Noah is now 10 1/2 months old and still not sleeping well, which of course means neither are we. Oh we were so very proud if ourselves 7 months ago, when all the other NCT babies were waking all the time and Noah was already sleeping most of the night. We were the best parents ever, we were awesome, we didn't know why all the other parents were complaining, we should have been teaching other parents using our brilliant techniques, we were a little premature in our celebrations and self aggrandising. I know this is sounding a lot like a previous post and you may well be thinking I'm repeating myself, but in a way this is a very apt illustration of our lives as parents now. With Noah still waking every hour, the signs of sleep deprivation are becoming more and more apparent. I am honestly expecting to sit down on the train one morning, look down and discover I have forgotten to put on my trousers. It wouldn't even be a surprise. Or maybe the reason why my work colleagues av...