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Phoebe is a real mummy’s girl. If she’s out of sight of her mum for just a few seconds then she now starts to get a bit agitated. We were in the supermarket and she’s seen Catie ten seconds before but when she headed a different way a little moan started up. “You’ve just seen her. She’s right behind you. You’re an idiot.” I shouted in my head.
Not that I am jealous at all. I don’t mind that she doesn’t seem to care if I go out of eyesight and tends to push me away if she can see me. I mean it’s ridiculous because I am clearly the best one. I am very funny and I laugh when she’s being naughty instead of telling her off and I push her round on the roundabout even when I am really tired. And I am repaid by being the less popular parent, who Phoebe can frankly do without.
Admittedly I didn’t keep her in my stomach for 10 months like my wife did (as I understand it), or feed her through a whole in her belly, but I would have done if I could.
She’s not even 17 months old yet and she’s already seen through my puppyish, try-too-hard personality. I tried to make her laugh as we were walking along pushing her in the pram and she blanked me, “She needs a bit of me-time,” said my wife. But then when we got to the traffic lights Phoebe started laughing and interacting with a complete stranger standing next to her. I get it Phoebs. All right. You’re not the first person this has happened with.
But it’s OK. No really. It really is. I love it that she loves her mum so much. And occasionally I can make her laugh for a bit and that’s all I need. And if she found me funny all the time then it wouldn’t feel so great when I manage to hit on something that works. She’s just helping me out with my comedy by not encouraging me if I am being too hack.
But I live to serve and later, though both Catie and me were knackered to the point of collapse, we took Phoebe to the park and I tried to build up the energy to spin her on the roundabout (which seemed to be designed to show up unfit older dads as it required some strength to make it spin even a little bit above walking pace) and then pushed her on the swings. She was saying “weeee” as she flew, which made the effort worthwhile. This really is a fun part of her life as she increases her command over movement and language. However exhausting it is and however much I am slighted, it’s a real privilege to share this time with her.
Annoyingly I seem to get a burst of energy once the baby is asleep, but I tidied up my office a bit and found pride of place for my broken History doll and the puppet dog of Gugus IV from my ill-fated play “I Killed Rasputin”. He symbolises the £45,000 I lost on that enterprise (though luckily I got an unexpected £500 back this week as my management had neglected to pay me for the money made on the short London run - BOOM! It was all worthwhile). But he’s a symbol of the importance of trying and the lessons of failing and the fact that I am still here and we both have a home and how I’ve managed to work my way back from that gut punch. And I am hoping if I see him every day I will manage to think of a way of using him in As It Occurs To Me. You’ve got a lot of money to make back Gugus. Now get to fucking work.
