Australian comedian Mick Meredith sings about the pain of the dreaded man flu.
In the illustration, The man doesn’t know that there is a snake underneath. The woman doesn’t know that there is a stone crushing the man. The woman thinks: “I am going to fall! And I can’t climb because the snake is going to bite me! Why can’t the man use a little more strength and pull me up!” The man thinks: “I am in so much pain! Yet I’m still pulling you as much as I can! Why don’t you try and climb a little harder!?”
The moral is— you can’t see the pressure the other person is under, and the other person can’t see the pain you’re in.
This applies to parenting but also life i general, whether it’s with work, family, feelings or friends, we should try to understand each other.
Learn to think differently, empathise more, and communicate better.
Be kind to people. We are fighting our own battles.
What do you call an articulate dinosaur?
Napoleon may not have designed the coat he wore…
But he did have a hand in it.
My wife was preparing lunch today when she asked, “Tony, where’s the cheese grater?”
I said “Some would say France, others would say England”
Why does the TV have buttons?
It wouldn’t look good with a zipper.
Why couldn’t the bicycle stand up by itself?
It was two tired.
Want to hear a joke about construction?
I’m still working on it.
Daddy Dazed loves this film junkie mum who uses her kid to recreate famous film scenes.
12 Angry Men
The Godfather (Horse head in bed scene)
These amazing film scenes are the work of British mum Emily and her son Arthur. More details at Studio Arthur.
As a kid I remember watching the children’s show Blue Peter and seeing a segment about a house of the future. There were lots of cool gadgets in that house but what i remember vividly is the presenter saying “switch off the lights” and the house lights automatically switching off. I thought it was cool but also so far-fetched that such a thing could really happen – lights you can talk to? Cool but Ridiculous.
40 years later …. its finally happened. In my house.
I bought a smart plug, connected it to Google Assistant, and now my daughter can lay in bed and switch off her bedroom light by voice alone.
The future is finally here.
Last weekend we visited my parents. While wifey and mum went shopping with baby I decided to spend some man time with dad. I asked him what he wanted to do? Go fishing? Go down the pub? Watch some football? Anything you want dad, my treat. But I knew what his answer would be – “Visit Wickes.” Wickes, the DIY superstore.
I hate DIY. When I was 10, dad said to me that he didn’t want me to grow up like him and have a manual job (he used to be a welder, he is retired now). He urged me to read and educate myself and take my studies seriously. He wanted me to be white collar not blue collar.I took this to heart and decided not to get involved in metalwork and woodwork at school. Consequently I have no interest in DIY. I’d rather be at home lying on a sofa watching TV, like the documentary series One Strange Rock. Or reading about strange but true stories on The Freaky.
But to Dad, Wickes is his Wembley, his Gucci, his perfect day out. Amongst the ball cocks and plasterboard he is at home. If they allowed him to, he’d stay in one of their sheds.
As we wander the aisles, him in nirvana fondling sandpaper and lovingly caressing screwdrivers, I try to feign interest whilst stifling my yawns.
Now that he is retired and bored I ask him why he doesn’t get a job working at Wickes.
“I’d hate dealing with the public asking stupid questions about grouting and plumbing,” he says.
“Like me?” I’m always phoning him up to ask the best way to fix a shelf that is wobbly or what do when a fuse blows.
“Your my son, thats different.” He says.
It’s a tender moment. He is not a man to express emotion but that’s as close to a “I love you” as I am likely to get.
With that in mind I have decided that I am going to get involved in DIY. Now that I am a father I have decided to put my hatred of DIY aside and learn how to use a power tool and grout and all that manly stuff. So I have invited dad to help me do up our bathroom. When I asked him, I could swear he had tears in his eyes.
I’ve no idea who this daddy is but i love these T shirts.
I love this funny video of a baby eating for the first time. I love the weird face she makes with her lips. Adorable!
On Saturday when wifey announced that she was going to a day spa and “don’t you remember you agreed to look after baby for the day”, my first reaction was fear, closely followed by horror.
She told me weeks ago. I vaguely remember wifey saying she wanted a day off but I was watching football at the time and didn’t pay full attention. She is a cunning one wifey. She used to make her controversial proposals just after sex, when lying in bed with my soppy grin and serotonin flooding my body I’d happily agree to anything. But we rarely have sex now, so football is the new post-coital.
Its not that I don’t love my daughter its just that as millions of mums and dads will testify to, they are bloody exhausting.I function best as a daddy when I can give her a short period of fun attention. Read her a book, jump on the bed together, dance to a rave tune. Babysitting all day is a different matter. It’s also a totally inappropriate term when there is no sitting involved. More like, baby sit down-get up -run around-sit down-get up-try and read the paper-get up.
As she left there was anther wifey curve ball – “remember we are potty training so no nappies, just watch her and when she looks like she is doing a poo or a wee move her to the potty.”
Great. I can’t even watch the telly now.
As baby plays with her tea set I watch her like a hawk and look for the signs. But I can’t see any. So after ten minutes I elect to sit her on the potty.
She sits there reading her book. Quite content. She’s obviously been observing daddy’s toilet time. After 5 or so minute she gets up. I look inside the potty. Nothing.
30 seconds later she has shat all over the carpet.
She looks at me.
I look at her.
“Uh oh’ she says.
It’s the first of many accidents.
Between potty time we watch animated penguins dance for over an hour on You Tube. We go to the park and go up and own the slide over 20 times in a row. We read the same nursery rhymes dozens of times. We jump on the bed. I bath baby, feed her and she is sick. (On reflection, jumping on the bed after breakfast was not the smartest move.)
She also pees in the kitchen, and the lounge twice. All before 10.30 am.
By the time wifey arrives back home at 8 that night glowing from her facial and all day pampering I am a broken man.
“She peed in the potty. She peed in the potty. It was only a little one. But she peed in the potty” I excitedly tell wifey, slightly delirious.
I choose not to mention the 9 times she didn’t.
I love football because in a game of football you have high drama, periods of boredom, tears, joy, elation, disappointment, frustration, excitement, all packed into 90 minutes. Child care is similar. Except its like watching or playing 10 games of football back to back.
Respect to all mothers of the world and all stay at home dads. I salute you.
The unique wisdom of Oasis singer Liam Gallagher on the problems of parenting.
When you’ve got kids, you worry, make sure they don’t turn into a f**king lunatics, but then theres nothing wrong with being a lunatic. I guess making suer they don’t turn into f**king squares. That’s the most important thing isn’t it?
What would be the first sign of them turning into squares?
Listening to Coldplay. Listening to Noel Gallagher’s Flying Birds…If I ever caught them at one of their gigs they’d be trouble. I’d stop their pocket money or I’d dish out loads of old photos of them with nappies full of sh*t and put that on the internet and say ‘Cop that dickhead’. That’ll do it cos they think they’re cool now they’re 16,17.