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A day of mild peril as for the first time in her short life, Phoebe was going to be exclusively in my care for 36 hours as Catie headed to Edinburgh for the book festival. I was looking forward to spending time with my daughter, but obviously worried I'd fuck things up with no one else to turn to for advice, or to remind me that she needed food.
Luckily the whole thing turned out to be pimpsy from start to finish. Child care is the easiest. Or maybe I am just a brilliant dad. But I slam dunked it all the way through.
Sure, time moved incredibly slowly and I was exhausted by midday and occasionally my baby would cry her eyes out for no good reason and I worried that that meant she was about to die and I'd be sent to prison for being a useless parent (and you know, be in the eternal and inescapable prison of guilt and loss) and it became a huge mission to get any of the necessary chores and bits of work I needed doing done, but apart from that it was pimpsy. I enjoyed the challenge of it and pretty much gave up on the idea of doing any work (though I did manage to record a 12 shows podcast while she was asleep - and then awake, so she joins in a bit), but the afternoon dragged on and it was hard to think of anything else to do and Phoebe got mildly annoyed, until I had the idea of going downstairs to watch Pointless which she was rapt with. She then watched the news which she found utterly hilarious (arch-satirist in the making). I love nothing more than sitting with her beside me. Nothing makes me happier than that. It's just something about the casual togetherness and ease of it. It's the best.
I could only really enjoy this because I knew that there was a time limit on it. My wife would be back tomorrow and we could return to sharing the duties (and it's not an equal sharing - she's had to look after Phoebe alone over night quite a few times already). My hat is off to those of you who manage to single parent every day.
I should add that I would consider this day a success provided that we did not end up going to A & E. And we didn't go. So I won. There was one point where Phoebe fell face down towards her play mat and would have cracked her head quite hard on the floor, but with the instincts of the wicket-keeper that I once was, I saw what was happening out of the corner of my eye and caught her one handed. Which I think proves that I am the best dad ever.
There was another point where I went to put out the bins (I thought we had someone coming to look round the house so was furiously trying to tidy up) whilst Phoebe bounced in her bouncer in the kitchen. I could see her for nearly the whole time. But I didn't have my keys or phone with me and realised if the door blew shut then I was going to be in all kinds of trouble (though that would be a Metro article sorted), but I managed to rush back inside and averted the imagined danger.
Once Phoebe was in bed I decided I was going to do what any father whose wife was away would do, play as many frames of snooker against myself as possible. It had the added jeopardy that Phoebe might wake up and I'd have to take the podcast upstairs and it would become Me1 vs Me2 baby minding. But (spoiler alert) she stayed quiet through the three frames I recorded, but bizarrely woke up just after I'd finished each frame (and as I was setting up the first frame). She is usually a good sleeper, so this was where I got payback by having to deal with her waking up and getting annoyed (I think because of teething). It cut down the number of frames of snooker I could get in, that's for sure.
But even so I enjoyed comforting her and sitting with her with my finger in her mouth until she fell back to sleep. She will never know what I gave up for her (two frames of snooker) or how happy I was to be there, in spite of my tiredness. My parents must have done the same for me and I don't remember it and I certainly don't appreciate it, even now, so it's totally fair that she'll do the same to me. But also I know how brilliant it feels to have this terrified little crazy monster in my care. I gave my parents way more than they gave me. Especially when you manage to get them to calm down and go back to sleep. I am the best at being a dad. The rest of you might as well give up trying.
Perhaps it was stupid to play lots of snooker, when I could have been sleeping, or at least relaxing. But it just seemed the right way to spend a rare night off. You can hear the first of the frames here and if I am honest the standard of play and commentary slips considerably throughout the free, partly because I got a bit tipsy (will release them over the next couple of weeks). Dad of the year.
