Sleep terroroists tag team.

9BA98158-33B0-4C61-9B23-205E113F543A.jpegThe first sign of trouble was at 2230 as I took off my over sized slouchy pants and headed to the marital sleeping quarters.

The bedroom is now really a very single functioning room….. for sleep only. My darling wife and I love each other still dearly but these little sleep terrorists Have put a current stop to any active love life , we’ll pick it back up when we’re in our 50s and leave the door open to punish our then teenage monsters .

Anyway where was I? That’s right, I was stripping down , slowly,  revealing a once chiseled (that’s a lie) physique , now more resembling a slightly deflated balloon when the 1 yrs old started to stir, bugger we’re on …. I’ll feed him some milk that may work… but by the time the milk is ready the sqwarking has awoken the terror ringleader 3 year old. Now we’re on.

Through the night when one was asleep the other wasn’t, it was trench warfare . I deployed every act of depomacy in my armour. Kind Daddy, sensitive Daddy, cuddly Daddy, Angry daddy…. lose my shit because I have to be at work in 2 hours Daddy.

But they Cared little . Believe what you like these boys are in control. Send super Nanny over and they’ll break her in days.

Its hard not to admire their will power and tactics but then it’s hard to do anything really on three hours sleep!

Anyway the battle goes into  another night tonight and I’ll be ready. But probably not ready enough.

Destroyed Dad.

A bit of living room WWE and suddenly I’m a blogger

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It Was seemingly just a Quiet Sunday winter afternoon in the cold English countryside. My wife had barricaded herself in the kitchen with her insta stories (video blogs that appear to talk solely about kids) , a bottle of cheap red wine and the ingredients for a roast to provide respite from Phil and Grant Mitchell, i mean our kids.

I was sitting on our broken reclining sofa which had recently arrived in mint condition from my parents, but within a couple of months between my boys and myself we had wrecked. Kung -fu panda was kicking some ass on the tv which was keeping my 3 year old , Henry pretty well occupied and my little one year old Wilf was just keeping himself to himself , playing with a few of his toys (henrys handle downs) and trying occasionally grab my attention for a quick cuddle.

Recently Wilf had started to become pretty competent at cruising the furniture. He generally did this with a cheeky grin and boundless energy. This Sunday was slightly different. The cruising had slowed down and his new trick and next phase was begining. This was the free standing phase where he would sporadically just get up and stand in the middle of the room.

So the scene was set. Kung-fu Panda was beating the crap out of someone on the tv, Henry to my knowledge was happy just watching it and Wilf was showing that he could stand on his own little two feet.

But the mood was soon to change and change very quickly. Wilf lifted himself to standing position down one end of the living room on our rather disgusting inherited 60’s red floral axminster carpet, whilst simultaneously Henry slid off the sofa at the other end . I thought little of it , then Henry broke into a sprint and ran at Wilf, this caught my attention but noooooo!!!! it was too late, like something straight out of WWE he clotheslined his brother. It was flawless, stunning , the crowd would have been off their seats , it was the finishing move to end any sibling dispute (had their been such a thing in this case).

Wilf hit the deck  with the expression of ‘what the fucking fuck did he do that for’ drawn across his face , then the tears came. I exploded out of the seat like a sumo after a donut immediately  thinking maybe i should just even this up with a ‘Chokeslam’ and call it quits, but luckily the small bit of adult in me decided that Henry should just have a wee bit of time on his own.

Tears mopped up and Henry back in the room and apologised the afternoon could continue. The rational behind such a move was that kung-fu panda had made him do it and i decided that it wasn’t worth much more of an argument so we agreed that it was wrong and we shouldn’t hurt anybody certainly not our baby brother.

I then sat there and thought about all the things that have happened since the boys came into my life, all the funny things they bring , the stresses that come with being a dad and trying to accept that you are now the responsible one. I thought about how best it was remember these things , good bad and ugly and Well here it is , i guess sharing is the best way so be prepared to be amused, bored and hopefully entertained over the coming days , months and years.

Who the hell am I?

2DC22316-9667-470B-92D2-41B856622227.jpegWelcome to The Destroyed Daddy!
I am a mid thirties ,out of shape ,tired, working father of two little boys aged 3 and 1.
This Is my Take on Fatherhood,co parenting, children, life before children , lack of Money, love, endless nappies and genreral day to day shenanigans!
Bienvenue to the inner sanctum of my seemingly mental but probably quite ordinary life.