Nothing can prepare you for the role of “Dad”
I suppose you could read books, watch YouTube videos, or converse with the “lads”
Or you can sit and observe how others act “Dad”
You could try out the latest, new parenting fad
There’s no way to plan, or prepare for the life
Of a dependent small child who takes up your time
And drains you of resources; headspace, money, and energy
To not always guarantee a seamless synergy
More often than not, the best thing to do
Is to dive right on in, that’s all you can do
When the small human is sad
You just try to console
But it only wants mummy
And makes clear that this you know.
When the tiny version of you
Wants to learn and enquire
And you’re exhausted by numerous attempts inspire
When the small one seems to not care for your lessons
But is hell bent on destruction, of chaos and messing
And they appear apathetic to the life that’s ahead
Or they kick and they scream and refuse to do bed
And each day is a mystery, of surprise and of change
And goes on forever, ninety twelve hours a day
And you do all you can to support parent one
To keep house and raise children,
The daughters, the sons.
And socially the question is “Where’s mum?”
Confirming the view of you as “two” to parent one
Yet behind closed doors one and two are the same
And you equally strive at this parenting game
And you equally fail and of course you succeed
But the Dad is a parent, a parent indeed.
And while thanks may not be freely, or frequently given
I’d not be my version of a dad, without your commitment.
The fact that you stood up and raised three as your own
That you work endless hours to maintain a home
That you attempt pass wisdom, to teach and inspire
Though of our short attention spans you surely must tire
Here’s to a pretty sound version of “Dad”
Whose journey continues as a pretty sweet “Grandad”.