So macho

No, this isn’t some crazed love letter or invitation to an Internet forum, but sometimes the titles of these blog posts just jump out at you.

When I got to the playgroup the other day the organiser greeted me with some excitement. ‘You’re not the only dad today!’

I looked around while I was taking S-’s coat off and nodded to a large bloke in jeans and a sweatshirt, talking into a mobile phone. Pulling the drawers out of a toy kitchen just by his feet was a girl of about 3 or 4 years, obviously his daughter.

I thought we might have a manly catch up during the morning’s activities. This is a playgroup specifically for adoptive parents, so we could grab the opportunity to natter about being in the same boat [you don't see many of us stay-at home adoptive dads about, you know!].

But there was little opportunity for any sort of conversation, nevermind the mutually supportive, caring-sharing discussion I had envisaged. He wandered around the room following his daughter, playing desultorily with some of the toys and resolutely refusing to talk with anybody. I tried to catch his eye a couple of times but soon gave up. His face grew longer and darker with each passing minute. For a while he sat at the activities table poking glitter onto a cardboard star with magnificently bemused contempt.

It must have been a depressing morning both for him and for his daughter, and it wasn’t long before her slightly manic attempts to play with everything in the room flagged. As soon as it was clear that she was running out of ideas, he asked whether she was ready to leave.

Perhaps she was ready to go, and perhaps I’m being unfair, but he wasn’t really giving her a choice. Of course she agreed with him! She wanted to keep him happy.

It can be bloody difficult standing in a playgroup for the first time, especially if you’re not used to kids. So I had a small amount of sympathy for him on that score.

But come on man, you’ve got to make an effort and at least look as if you wouldn’t rather be thousands of miles away, for your child’s sake if nothing else.

So anyway I guess we’ll have that chat next time. Or perhaps not!

Don’t worry. Be happy

Yes, I was expecting to be daunted by the staying at home gig.

Why? Because G-’s just so good at this parenting business. Not just at taking S- round to tea at C-’s place, or wherever, or finding new things to do. But in the way she’s always thinking ahead, and all the shopping she does, and the way she always brings home something new for S- when she’s been out for the day.

There’s a level of noise when G-’s in the house with S-. It always makes me smile to myself when I’m out of their sightline. The noise is ongoing and continuous, usually composed of loads of talking, laughter and the squeaky, rattling or crashing sounds from a new toy. There’s also nearly always shouts of extravagant praise.

[Not that there isn't the occasional telling off, too.]

I live more in my head than G-. I’m more studious, quieter and a bit set in my ways. And like most blokes: multitasking was not in the factory settings. [G- of course can keep hundreds of balls in the air at any time.]

I guess I worry that S-’s going to be stimulated enough.