It’s my life

These days, I find I’m getting rather used to the reversal of roles in our family. So I’m quite happy to do some of the creative thinking around how we bring up our daughter, about S-’s routines, welfare and happiness.

I’m still pretty rubbish at shopping, but I am getting used to the more spontaneous things about parenting: like snatching sleep where and when you can and having to think on your feet when you’ve nothing in the fridge for lunch.

One thing I found very difficult at first is the strange language of parenthood. And it has taken me a little while, but I’m now scarily fluent in Motherese, that strange tongue where you have conversations with people in your immediate vicinity – whom you may or may not know – though to all intents and purposes you’re actually talking to your child.

Search me out on a typical day and you’ll find me on the edge of groups of women speaking in a bizarre, descriptive language that requires a loud voice and an irritating over-reliance on the third person:

‘Yes, S-, the boy is climbing on the table. Yes, he’s very clever, but I hope he doesn’t fall off. Can his mummy see him? Oh no. Ouch… It’s ok. It’s ok, look, there’s the boy’s mummy, running over.’

In the evenings I relax by practicing grown up conversations with my wife. Luckily, she often tolerates my stumbling and sometimes rather juvenile efforts.