Mumdad Dadmum

My dad had it easy.

My mum didn't work when I was a child and as such the child rearing duties were almost entirely hers. My dad restricted him to;

• Taking me swimming
• Teaching me to ride a bike
• Taking me fishing
• Telling me off for moaning that I didn't like fishing
• Throwing my Action Man down the stairs in a fit of pique
• Trying to kill me

Now the last one might seem a bit excessive, but there's a story behind it. One day when I was ten I got to thinking about the ten commandments and how many were negative (as in "Thou shalt NOT!"). I went to my dad and, for some reason phrased the question thus;

"Dad, how many commandments are there in the ten commandments?"

This led to much mirth and merriment. He trundled off to tell my mum. He told my brother over dinner. He phone his friends to tell them. The next day he told my mum and brother again, just in case they forgot. Then he phoned some more friends. I found this somewhat irksome. So, a couple of days later, when I got my chance for revenge I took it. And how.

It was about a week later and I whilst in the kitchen I saw my dad watering the garden with the hose. It had one of those pistol grip attachments and, not realising he was being observed, he was quick-drawing it like a gun-slinger. A rather over-weight, baggy trousered gun-slinger. He did this as he worked his way to where the was a wasps nest near the pond. Even though he had his back to me I could see the moment the idea came to him. He straightened up, stretched his neck and carefully took aim at the wasps nest. When he squirted water at the nest, there was a moment's pause and then a dark cloud of wasps emerged from it. With a loud "SHIT!" the hose went up in the air, he took to his heels, ran to the back door and it was at this point he found I'd locked it. Hence the attempted murder.

He wasn't a bad father, he was a father of his time. His job was to put the food on the table, do a bit of DIY and taxi us around. He was always there for us, and he was endlessly generous. I miss him terribly. But he wasn't our mum and he really did have it easy.

Things have changed somewhat. The Wife and I both work because we have to, which means we take a split shift with the children. Because I work during the day, she spends most of the day with the Kids, and I get dinners, bath time, story, bed, homework and everything that occurs after they get back from school (mainly arguing). This situation means the Kids only see the two of us together at weekends. Consequently the Kids regularly call me "Mum er Dad."

The Girl highlighted the blurry line between Mum and Dad this evening when she wigged out as the Wife left for work. She hurled herself on the floor (the Girl, not the Wife) and screamed "I want mummy!" over and over until I asked her if she wanted a biscuit. At that point she jumped to her feet like a football player being awarded a free kick. Later, as she was having her dinner she started calling

"Where's daddy? Where's daddy gone? Has daddy gone to work? Has he?"

"No darling. I'm here."

"No. I mean daddy."

"I am daddy."

"I mean... Er..."

And, for the first time ever, she referred to the Wife by her first name. Its quite something that she got so confused she used the Wife's first name. We're not those kind of parents. As far as I'm concerned its one step down from incest. I get quite shirty about it. Then the Boy sighed and said

"You shouldn't call her <Wife's name> its... Er..." (Looking at me for confirmation) "Mummy?"

Now whilst I think my dad had it easy, I'm not suggesting parenting is harder now. It isn't. This weekend the Boy was invited to a birthday party at a bowling alley. We decided - very unwisely - to take the Girl. We figured that the Girl could spend her time on the soft play area whilst the Boy bowled with his friends. The Girl being the Girl had other ideas. She threw a tantrum when she couldn't bowl. Then the Boy generously let her have his go, and she threw a tantrum when she couldn't have everyone else's go too. At this point I dragged (and I mean literally) her off to a quiet part of the bowling alley, lay her down on the floor and distracted her by playing episodes of Peppa Pig from YouTube on my phone. I love technology.

 Mind you, five minutes later she threw a tantrum because a couple of skinheads wouldn't let her play pool with them. She made one of them cry.