Being a dad to a daughter.

Following on from my last blog we’ve already determined that I have a daughter and how myself and my wife went about getting her (reminder, no depositing of DNA was required for her).  Now I have been a father for just over 6.5 years so the whole generic parenting thing comes natural to me, however, up until 5.5 years ago this parenting was all with boys so finding myself with a daughter was lets just say, a bit of a culture shock.

I found being a dad to a daughter very different and struggled with it at first.  When you have a child naturally it is easy to fall into the swing of “care giving”.  Your little bundle of genetically similar matter is completely reliant on you for everything and you quickly need to get to know their traits.  However, when your child arrives at 1.5 years you quickly have to learn all of this stuff otherwise you will end up with a screaming mess of a child on your hands.  Luckily my wife foresaw this problem and as she always is, was immediately prepared for the situation, I on the other hand was absolutely clueless.

The first few weeks of adoption were harder for my wife than me, she took care of all of the duties and I kind of bumbled about in the back ground occasionally mumbling “everything okay dear?” and putting my tin hat on waiting for the response.  After a few weeks though it became clear that my wife wasn’t going to let me hide from the hard stuff and just enjoy the fun parts, oh no, I was expected to start to get hands on and with hands and fingers as big as mine (wink wink ladies) I was not looking forward to it.

So, first up was bum duties both front and back.  Now in our house a girls bits are known as a “front bum” because lets be honest, unless you’ve had a few kids and things have gone south, it pretty much looks like a bum crack.  I have never been one for dirty nappies and have been known to hide behind the sofa to avoid doing them however with my daughter I took a man up pill and went for it.  Assuming the face up planking position I whipped open my daughters vest and went for the nappy, taking it off I saw my first issue……which way do you wipe? Having never been the proud owner of a front bum I was at a loss and looked at my daughter for a bit of guidance which was a completely stupid as she couldn’t talk, she looked at me like a knob head though.  I shouted to my wife who after much laughing said “front to back”  not helpful, is that up and down or what?  “No dickhead, front to back” came the response.  Now there are also other “layers” but as this is a friendly blog, lets just say you’ve got to wipe them all. This task still doesn’t come easy to me and I find myself having to say “front to back” every time.

Anyway, moving swiftly on next came outfits.  I am bloody good at buying clothes, some would say the best girls clothes buyer there has ever been.  However I lack the ability to actually know what clothes go together, something which frustrates my wife.  Now again being a man I didn’t know that a flowery pattern top didn’t go with a stripy patterned pair of leggings.  I started off completely oblivious to the fact that I had no fashion sense and I used to eagerly pick out outfits from the wardrobe to dress my little cherub in.  It took a few weeks for me to realise that whatever I dressed my daughter in she never actually wore out of the house.  My wife would say “she spilt something” or “she was sick on it” in the end I challenged my wife as I was getting a bit suspect about it all “she looked like a bag of shit” came the response.  Now I have to run all the clothing outfit choices past my wife, until further notice.  Little girls clothes also tend to have really small buttons on, I can barely do my own shirt buttons up so trying to achieve this task was a nightmare! I have since developed the skill of doing up buttons with my little fingers.

The next stumbling block was hair.  As a member of the folically challenged club I have very limited experience in hair styling.  My boys have short hair that just requires a rub of a towel or hand to make it look presentable, my daughter however has the naturally curliest head of hair you have ever seen on a child.  My wife also has naturally curly hair so she had vast amounts of experience but forgot to pass any of this onto me.  I first thought that this was going be a challenge when i was in charge of getting her ready one morning, well I say in charge but it was more like when you let your kids wash your car and you know you are going to have to do it again properly.  My wife made me think I was the boss but actually she was humouring me.  Anyway, it came to styling my daughters hair and I was met with what can only be described as a birds nest.  I contemplated how I was going to sort this out so instinctively reached for the brush…..wrong.  I had no idea that hair could get that big, I literally watched it grow in front of my eyes.  In less than 5 minutes my daughter looked like a white member of the jackson 5 and my wife screamed “don’t brush curly hair you dick!” several times until I ran out and hid in my safe place.

A few weeks later I was “allowed” to be on hairstyle duties once again mainly because we weren’t actually planning on going out anywhere that day.  Perfect, I thought, lets go for a pony tail.  Now I have never had long hair so was really scared about pulling it tight, next up was the bobble.  I have big fingers so found the whole getting a bobble round them and then over the hair quite a big deal, I also found the whole twist it go over the top and twist again routine almost cryptic.  I genuinely planned to suck all her hair up in the hoover attachment so that I had it all in one perfect ponytail, that was until I remembered that our hoover is a Dyson and I probably would have scalped her.  My wife suggested I tried to style my daughters hair with hair clips, worse idea ever.  There were bits of stray hair everywhere, I hated clipping the clips for fear of hurting my daughter and myself and I always got the “wrong colour” for whatever outfit she was wearing.

Last of all was tights.  I hate the feeling of tights, anything that’s a bit prickly or nylon type material makes my spine shiver.  Putting tights on my daughter was a task and a half because of this phobia, made harder by the fact that my daughter has thighs the size of an olympic cyclist or a rugby 2nd row, so big in fact that i sometimes call her Mrs Trunks.  Up until this point I was unaware that a “saggy gusset” was an issue in little girls but apparently it is, I only found this out when my wife picked our daughter up and held her up  for me to realise that her tights were hanging so low in the gusset they were basically touching her knees.  I now avoid tights.

Overtime I have become better at things with my daughter, for example I can now complete a perfect pineapple ponytail or even bunches like the twins on funhouse used to have.  I am also able to co-ordinate clothes better which is assisted by my wife kindly leaving outfits out for me. I have often wondered if I could mould my daughter into a tom boy as jeans and jumpers are so much easier, however with the threat of castration a real possibility, I think I might leave that idea for now.

The end.





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