fatherhood
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You scream, I wilt
by Kojo Baffoe a man, a father, a son, a brother, a husband, a friend, a poet, a writer on a quest to make sense of this reality, with words. Author of Evoutionary and Being a father.
It felt like any other day. My son had just turned two years old and started pre-school.
The first day of school was difficult for all of us. We spent 30 minutes before leaving him and probably phoned every hour or two on that day. All was well. We later discovered that, within 10 minutes of us leaving, he had stopped crying. Day two, he got into trouble. Threw sand in another child’s face. Sat in the naughty corner. He still throws things at his parents though. Day 3, actually naps during nap time. Then we had to keep him home for a week. The usual. Ear infection. Cold. Swine flu scare.
It was his second day back after school after the week off and, as I mentioned before, it felt like any other day. I dropped him off to fewer tears and went about my day. He was now on full days so I picked him up at about 4pm and we headed home. As we drove in the gate, he started grumbling. Wanted the remote to open the gate. We got out of the car and he wanted to stay outside the yard. We got into the yard and he wanted to be ‘ousite’ yet followed me into the house. By now, the grumbling was a fake cry and then it happened….. the screaming. No warning. No nothing. From ‘daddee ousite’ to the kind of scream one hears outside an abattoir. I rush to him thinking he’s hurt himself or something, he pushes me away, lies on the ground kicking his legs and keeps on screaming.
I’m a patient man. Really, I am. I am understanding. When he cries, I try to determine what is wrong. I try to comfort. I try to be a good, loving father. I don’t shout. I talk. I maintained that image for the first 30 minutes. I tried to give him juice. I talked to him. I asked what was wrong. I couldn’t think straight anymore. I put on the telly, but the screams got louder, drowning out the telly. I put on music. He likes music. Loves singing and dancing. The screams weren’t even in tune. I shouted at him. Told him to stop it. Opened the front door and told him to go play outside. The screams echoed through the house and reverberated through the neighbourhood. Eventually, I ignored him. Twenty minutes after having broken the one hour mark, he just stopped. Five minutes after that. Smiling and laughing, telling me stories.
For a week, that became the routine. Every day, after school though, thank the heavens, they only ran for about 30 minutes. Then one day I put him in his room and left him there and the consistent tantrums after school stopped. Now they just come any old time.
I finally discovered why they call them the terrible twos. I have heard all the theories. I have tried some. Sometimes they work, sometimes they don’t. If you have more, please share. All I really have now is the hope that, one day, hopefully sooner rather than later, he’ll stop. Until then, all I’m committed to is maintaining my sanity. I love him, even if he may just drive me mad.
Being a father
by Kojo Baffoe a man, a father, a son, a brother, a husband, a friend, a poet, a writer on a quest to make sense of this reality, with words. Author of ramblings
It was a day that started like any other. Woke up, got ready and went to work. We had been waiting for so long that life seemed to be more about the waiting than the end result. Nine months of waiting (well, six really. We found out late.) At lunch, I headed home to pick up the missus to go for what we hoped was the last visit to the gynae. My son was a week overdue. When I got home, I had to wait while my wife finished up a meeting. We were anxious. Looking forward to parenthood, but it was something that was ‘going’ to happen, instead of actually ‘happening’. Two hours later, I was in a state of bliss, awe, shock, confusion and borderline panic. I was a father to a very big (4.78kg) baby boy, Kweku.
On that day, I finally found purpose. True purpose. My responsibility became to build a legacy that my son can be proud of. My responsibility became to give him the foundation from which he can achieve whatever he desires. My responsibility became to make it through the rest of my life without messing him up too much. I am the example he will probably try to be like or be the total opposite of. But that’s all the ‘head in the sky’ stuff. It’s great in theory; the reality is always something else. Half the time, I’m just trying to keep my head above water.
I have spent the last two years in awe. I catch myself just watching him, forgetting to tell him “Get down! Stay away from the pool! Don’t throw that! Eat this! Sorry. Don’t cry! Naughty door!”
I smile more. Definitely laugh a lot more. I must admit that while I generally laugh with him, sometimes it is at him. He pulls the strangest, funniest faces sometimes.
I remember saying to my wife that, one day, he would come walking round the corner, calling Mommee and Daddee. He does it every night somewhere between midnight and 2am as he makes the short trek from his room to ours. The other night, I was still up working so I put him into our bed and, before I could say anything, he smiled and said “bye, bye”. And just like that, I was dismissed from my own room.
One minute, he was a baby, next he’s running up and down, climbing anything in his path and giving running commentary all the time. Everything is ‘this’ and ‘that’ but the vocabulary is growing every day. And, every day, there’s another milestone and we are only at two years. I’m still recovering from the fact that he now kicks the ball back to ME when we are playing. Used to be he would either throw or kick it without direction. Now he places it and kicks it to me. I taught him how to bob his head to the music before he was one. Now he has his favourite songs, especially Black Eyed Peas’ Boom Boom Pow.
School has been hard on all of us, but it is still early days. I love that when I pick him up, he looks at the teacher, points at me and says “Daddee”. I love being a father. I wish this was all I had to do. It is still early days, but I consider this one of the ultimate blessings in life.
