It’s now been nine weeks since the birth of our Ben, and (as it says in the title) it was time for us to party. The loud dance music went on as we got ready. I […]
It’s now been nine weeks since the birth of our Ben, and (as it says in the title) it was time for us to party. The loud dance music went on as we got ready. I put on my best shirt, my other half slipped into a silky black dress, and we hit the town!
Now, when I say loud music I really mean baby nursery rhymes that we have on a CD, best shirt really means anything I have without spit-up on it, and my other half, although beautiful, was in a pair of jeans and a comfy top.
But we really did go to a party, one we would never forget, for it was Baby Ben’s first party.
It’s strange, I was thinking on the way to the party that in my 28 (plus four) years, I’ve never been to a children’s party. Well maybe as a kid, but certainly not in my adult life. That thought made me feel very anxious as we pulled up to the friend’s house whose 2-year-old we were celebrating. We got out of the car, and as I knocked on the door I could hear an almighty racket that was the noise of toddlers playing. As the door handle began to move I thought of how Ben might be. He was used to a very chill house with just two adults rattling around, being silly and singing badly. Although his awareness of his surrounding is improving by the day, I wondered, how he would cope?
As you can see by the picture, the answer is: brilliantly well!! (And yes, he’s holding his own balloon! You have no idea how much I’ve shown that off, and, now all of you can see it too!)
I’m currently grinning like a silly proud dad, just so you know!
He had a blast, which is wonderful. He was chatty and engaged with all of the chaos around him, but the funny thing is, I had a blast, too! There were loads of kids running around, playing, climbing on their parents, dancing to music and enjoying themselves. This created a happy, carefree, timeless moment in which everyone was celebrating his or her children. As I chatted with other dads about their children and my Ben, I didn’t feel quite so isolated. (That’s the unexpected part if you hadn’t guessed.)
I hadn’t really thought about it, but being a dad kind of is isolating. A lot of attention goes to the mother, and rightly so. The bond between mother and baby is a special one, and to support that there are a lot of groups specifically for mothers to meet and share their stories, woes—and offer their insights. I don’t know why but these groups are something I would struggle to go to.
Maybe it’s because of the old fashioned mantra of men go to work, and women raise the family?
It’s something I’d like to see evolve as the status of relationships have.
Because lads, we all know, when the chips are down our lovely ladies are the ones who wear the trousers!
I guess what I’m saying is that the party was wonderful, and I’m so glad my little one enjoyed it. But what I also took away from my week is that a male support structure is crucial. Something for just us dads to get together and talk about the things we possibly can’t with our partners. Maybe I’ll need to throw a party or two to make sure this happens, you know, just for support reasons of course!