The NDC

Since Monday I have been greated by a number of smiling and 'knowing' dads. I'm one of them - a member of the club so-to-speak. The (New) Dads' Club. None of us have done much to quailfy (our wives will tell you that) but once the newness wears off we'll earn our stripes / smiles / frowns.

Funny thing - this bond I now share with fathers all over the world - a week ago I might have said it's silly to think that my life will change that dramatically; but there is a difference that is difficult to define. I mentioned to a dad of a beautiful teenage daughter that there is a primal stirring in me when I think about Joshua - he nodded and I could see the shotgun wedged between the front seats of his car and I realised that I'm blessed to start with a boy. I fear that he'll see a shotgun before I do! You go son! I hear that the next child is on the way. Oh well back to the drawing bed.

Surprise Surprise

At 2AM Tracey said something like "I think I'm having a baby." I said something that I'm not proud of and went back to sleep. At 4AM she had a bath. The contractions stopped and so did the panic. Little did we know. At 5:30AM she woke me again and said "I'm having a baby!" I said "Hang on let me just log on to my client's server and make sure that the update has finished." It haden't. A short delay to click OK and Restart and off we went - Stellenbosch via 4-Way flashers and lots of rhythmic breathing.

At 8:02AM Joshua Garner poked his perfect face - if not reminiscient of mom, dad, great gran (on mom's side) and granpa (also on mom's side) - out and said "Hey! This place is messed up but there's no going back now. Clean me, feed me and get me started - I'll do the rest. Time to sort this country out." I bought him the newspaper to show him who Thabo is - so that he can give him a shout and wake him up at sparrows before the xenophobic twits relieve their angst by slaughtering another hard-working Malawian and helping themselves to a Sony. Alas no pics of our esteemed Pres. Absent as he is always; save for some statement he made about the horse and bolting and how the stables are so clean - 'cause a little straw goes a long way to cover the mess but wait until the stench of the rot gets you and then you'll say kak, and you'll be right. Anyhow, Jo is here and man is he a beaut. I'm as proud as any new dad - not that I did much (and what little I did do was such a long time ago I can't say I recall it being that amazing - at least not the stuff that I did!)

Josh's room has a place for the rugby ball and a cricket bat and a shelf for the violin - just in case. I have sleeping tablets and a rational wife. Long may it last! Thank you Lord.

Stuck between a tail and a torso.

Tracey, Josh and I went to Barrydale for the weekend. Thought about leaving him at home with the house-sitters - but the process of taking him out appears to be irreversible so he tagged along. Not much of an imposition really but he does slow mom down a bit; and the wine drinking, while not entirely restricted, is certainly subdued. I figured Barrydale was a bit more like Calizdorp - with a strong focus on wine - but it wasn't; so the effect was negligible.

Less than a month to go and the boy is a real kicker (hope that's not some obscure euphemism in some odd-ball town somewhere for toe-nail-clipping-eater or worse). Given his previous reasons for kicking - the joke that is the Zim elections; Mad Bob; the Sharks poor finishing (season wise) and the removal of the Scorpions' tail and sting and surely head next (by the people who may be accurately referred to as the part of the body that is hidden between a tail and a torso) - I can only think that he's had enough and wants to get out to sort things out. It's about time someone did something. Will he be the one to save us from our problems? A part of me suspects that's he's likely to find all the no-doers (who are marginally less useful than all the do-gooders and peas in the same pod as all the say-nothings) and smack them about the head. His dad will surely encourage him not to be the violent sort but enough is enough. Kick. Kick. Kick.

Which seems to be quite common since the introduction of the ELVs. I think the game is better for it. At least now I can point out the faded pics of Naas and say "Ag, Jo, back in the day this was the man who could change, in the course of 80 minutes, the lives and loves of oh so many - by sticking his foot in it." Living on a farm such little accidents need to be dealt with pragmatically - and with a spare pair of Nikes kept on the veranda. Must remember to keep those clean as the due date is the end of the month and right now running excitedly and getting the nervous runs seem quite similar.