I’ve been a huge fan of Kid President on YouTube for a while now, and his videos are always inspiring. Today, he’s posted a video which is an open letter to his brand new baby nephew. This is pretty much everything I wanted to say to Little M when she was born. What about you? Are there more things to add? Join the conversation on Twitter by using the hashtags #thekidsneedtoknow and #SDD

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Do you ever get the feeling you’re not wanted? Like, REALLY not wanted? Or if you are wanted, it’s because you’re the only option? If you answered ‘yes’ to either of those, then welcome to the club.

I mentioned in my ‘Shiftwork Sucks‘ post that my wife does a lot of nightshifts. When she’s working one of those, it’s just Little M and I, and that’s fine. We get on like a house on fire. We play, we cuddle up in front of the TV, we read books, we tell stories. It’s almost like we’re father and daughter. HOWEVER, when Little J isn’t working or happens to be working a dayshift, that all changes. I suddenly go from being the go-to-guy to the go-away-guy. Little M just isn’t interested in me. I tell myself that it’s because she misses her mum and she’s making the most of their time together because she’s beginning to realise that some nights mummy isn’t around, and that’s probably all it is, but it sure makes you feel like crap.

Recently, bedtime has become a bit of a battle. When I say battle, I mean it’s as LOUD AS WAR. The main casualties seem to be her throat and my ears from all the screaming. Not when it’s just the two of us, but when Little J is home. Little J has to be the one to put her to bed, to read her a story, to sing her a song. If I even attempt to put her to bed the crying starts and the full on screaming starts to ramp up. I’ve never heard anything like it. Glass is shattering. Dogs are covering their ears. The only way to stop this crazy turned-up-to-11 temper tantrum? Call on Little J to rescue me.

If Little M even suspects that mummy is home, she’s in and out of bed like a cuckoo from it’s clock. I mentioned this on Facebook the other day and it appears that I’m not alone. Some of my friends have commented that their kids will favour one parent over the other and experience major screaming matches.

Does this happen to you? How do you deal with it? Have you managed to overcome it? Share your thoughts in the comments below!

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Living in the west of Scotland has its benefits. The rolling hills, the beautiful scenery, the deep-fried Mars bars. It does however, have one major drawback – the weather. The weather in itself is no great problem. We Scots are a hardy bunch, so while the whole of London and the rest of South-East England go into lockdown for two or three flakes of snow, Scotland gets on with it. Come rain, shine or three feet of snow.

That being said, at this time of year cold and flu season is at its height, and the bad weather undoubtedly makes it a little more difficult to fight off these bugs. Today, that’s where I find myself. Little M is well-known in our house for bringing in bugs. In fact, all children of her age pick up bugs and rather generously pass them on. When they do, I get the bugs. I don’t like being sick.

When I do catch a bug from Little M though, I take a little comfort in the fact that every time she catches something, her immune system is learning to fight those bugs a little better. There’s a lot to be said for not bringing your child up in a completely sterile environment. So long as you keep your house clean, it’s OK if they pick up a piece of food they’ve dropped and put it straight in their mouths. It’s OK to get dirty when they go out to play.

So long as you’re not letting them play in the Ultra-Dangerous Haunted House of Knives and Fire, they’ll be OK.

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I’ve never been able to tell exactly who Little M is like. I’m hopeless at that particular game.I always have been. Most people look at babies and  small children and can instantly say ‘oh, she looks like you/her mother/sister/brother/grandparent’, but I’ve just never been able to do it. It’s just not in me. I don’t have that gift, and that’s just looking for facial similarities.

I’m the same with ages. In fact, I make it a personal rule to NEVER guess a woman’s age. Guys: I urge you to adopt this rule into your own lives. NEVER TRY TO GUESS A WOMAN’S AGE.What is it with women wanting me to guess their age, anyway? There’s no prize for getting it right, and if you get it wrong, you’re going to lose a body part.

Anyway, I digress.

I’ve never been able to see physical similarities between small children and their relatives, so last night I was a little shocked to discover that I recognised a personality trait in Little M. She woke up in the middle of the night crying and asked for a drink, which she got once I’d been able to locate it through bleary eyes. She attempted to take a sip of her water and discovered the lid was closed.

Rather than attempt to open it, she asked “who shut it?”. Not why or how, but ‘who’. It was almost like she was making her very own list of people who have wronged her and at some point in the future, she’d go out and have her revenge before crossing the it off again. A little like ‘My Name Is Earl’, but a lot more sinister.

That’s when it hit me. I see a similar trait in Little J. My name appears on her list a lot – and she’s never even asked me to guess her age.

The post Now I Know! appeared first on Stuff Daddies Do.

Yep, shiftwork isn’t great. In my single days, I worked shifts and it was fine. Finishing your final nightshift on a Monday morning just as everyone else was just beginning their working week was the best feeling ever, but if you’re a parent, it can be difficult. Thankfully, I now work 9-5, M-F. My wife, Little J doesn’t have that luxury though. You see, she’s a nurse.

The past couple of weeks have been great from Little M’s point of view. Little J has had a couple of weeks off, and I would come home shortly after 5 and we’d have some family time before bedtime. This week however, Little J has been back at work. Straight onto 4 straight nightshifts. Our routine on nightshift days goes a little like this:

Little M and I wake up, get washed & dressed, and we’re out the door at 8am to take Little M to whichever set of grandparents are looking after her today. I go to work. Little J arrives home between 8:10am and 8:30am and goes straight to bed.

I pick up Molly after work and take her home. Arrive around 6:00pm and Little J and I eat together (Little M has already eaten at Gran & Papa’s house).

Little J leaves for work at 7:00pm. Little M and I have some daddy-daughter time before bedtime. Bed time is somewhere between 7:30pm and 8:30pm depending on how much fun we’re having!

So, you’ll see by the account above that the three of us will only manage an hour a day when Little J’s working nightshift. I don’t grudge it at all. It’s a job she loves and finds very fulfilling, and she’s not nightshift all the time. This week has been particularly difficult though, because she was straight onto 4 nightshifts after 2 weeks annual leave, and Little M has been a little upset each time Little J leaves for work.

I think it might be harder on Little J though – no-one likes to upset their children.

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I’m the proud father of a 2-and-a-half year old: Little M. Over the past few months, along with a number of other things, her imagination has blossomed.She used to need someone else to play with, but now, she’s quite happy to play by herself. Being our first-born, Little M has an abundance of toys to play with. Her favourite ‘traditional’ toy is a Disney Princesses castle, but she’s been watching her mum and I. You see, like most parents these days, we have a mobile phone each, and we use them for everything: music, Facebook, Twitter, web, messaging and wait, I’ve missed something. Oh, yes: making calls.

I’m quite protective of my phone (iPhone 5S, if you’re wondering), so Little M doesn’t usually get the chance to play with mine, but she does get to play with Little J’s. She makes (pretend) calls to relatives across the globe, (pretend) posts on Facebook and sends (pretend) text messages. However, on the occasions when Little J’s phone is not available, she’ll find a substitute. She has a couple of toy phones, but she’ll use whatever’s to hand.

Anything can be a phone: a real phone, a toy phone, a pack of cards, a shoe, a hairbrush, or even just your hand. Her reception relies on only one thing, and it’s not signal strength or battery life. It’s her imagination. As a parent, its my job to feed her imagination, and it’s a lot of fun!

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I guess you could call me the stereotypical dad. I do a bit of DIY, I do the techy things around the house (and other places), and when things break, I have a go at fixing them. I usually succeed too. Little M and Little J don’t break too many things beyond repair, thankfully!

Tonight I got home after a very busy day at work to find Little J and Little M in Little M’s bedroom, tidying. They’d been to Ikea and picked up a bunch of boxes to store her plethora of toys (they’ve been cluttering the floor for far too long!), and they were starting to sort them out and put them in the boxes for storage under the bed. At this point, I should probably tell you that Little M is a bit of a perfectionist.

She was trying to put the lid on one of the boxes and wasn’t quite managing it, but credit where credit’s due, she kept going until she got it. Then she turned to Little J and said “Fixed it. Just like Daddy”. That’s when I realised. She notices EVERYTHING. She knows that I’m the one who fixes things. Just one of the things which makes me smile.

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