It's all my fault

Fearless Dad - Richard Goslan

Let’s face it, no matter how much we do as dads, we are destined to spend our lives in the debit column with our women.  

I’ve come to this depressing conclusion because even though we think we’re doing our bit around the house, spending more time at home, getting stuck in with the nappies and the bathtime and the story-reading, it never counts for much. The truth is, we will never make amends for not being able to give birth ourselves.  

I have two kids already, and another on the way. You’re going to carry the can for that the rest of your life. Just think: the nausea, the bloating, the lack of alcohol, the chafing, the weight-gain, the stretching, all leading up to the single most painful experience any woman will ever suffer in their entire lives. Followed, often, by the breast-feeding. And it was ALL YOUR FAULT. Three times over. And you’re going to pay for it. Forever.  

You know the scenario. Instead of going down the pub with your pals for a few pints, you try and do the right thing and stay at home to deal with the kids, so your wife can head out to the cinema with her girlfriends. It’s the least you can do, right? And for your exemplary behaviour, you expect a few points in the credit column.  

That’s fine, but where does it get you? Nowhere. Absolutely nowhere. Because no matter how many points we build up from trying to do the right thing, you will never be forgiven for putting her through the ordeal of childbirth. 

But, I have a suggestion. A step into the unknown for most of us, but one which could just pay dividends. Why not let her go away for the entire weekend? She could visit a friend somewhere, take a trip or do something particularly girly which you have no interest in. All you have to do in return is survive 48 hours alone with the kids.  

This isn’t as hard as it sounds, and in some ways it can be a lot of fun for all of you. First of all, the kids get to wear whatever they want. Stripes with spots, browns and purples – it’s open season. They also get to eat pretty much anything you can rustle up. Tinned tomato soup bursting with additives? No problem. A wee trip to the Golden Arches? Why not. Staying up late watching DVDs? They’ll love you for it. 

And no matter what kind of trouble you get into, no matter what kind of stress you suffer, just make sure you’re all smiling at the precise moment your missus walks back in the door.  

Just remember, you’ll never, ever be back in credit … but it doesn’t hurt to try.