Days with Dad
on the messy, magical moments of family life
Dear friends,
A little story for you ahead of Father’s Day this weekend. It was written when my children were small and life was chaotic and messy and altogether wonderful. I hope you enjoy.
Thank you, as always, for being here and for supporting my writing. It is doing wonders for my heart.
And a big squishy hello to my father, who reads all my letters here. I have so many wonderful memories of my childhood with you — building tree houses and flying foxes in the garden, learning to ride my bike down our gravel driveway, and all of your ‘well engineered’ home appliances (remember the hyper-meter!)
with love and kindness,
Kate xx
P.S. keep an eye out in your inbox tomorrow for a little surprise from me. I can’t wait to share some Wild & Wonderful news with you.
Get me a hammer, Mum, my three-year-old-son calls from the back garden. His flaming hair catching the last rays of the day’s light.
Please? I call back, but there is no answer, just the sound of little hands at work in a pile of old fence pailings and a box of metal scraps.
I find what he wants in the shed, hanging on a shelf beside plastic bar clamps, an orange whipper snipper, and a family set of ear muffs.
Not that Mum, he tells me, as I deliver a white rubber-headed hammer, his face crumpling like the washing in the cane basket on the lawn. I want a real hammer, the one with the metal claw.
I sigh. When his Dad is home, real tools transform into objects of play.
I ready myself for a battle. I’m not in the mood for bruised fingers and toes. But I give in. You see my son knows more about tools than I do. Partly because they are his latest obsession and because of the days he spends with his Dad.
*
In our home, dad days are messy and playful. Sometimes hairy. Always adored.
I try not to take it personally. I can be fun too — once their shoes are on, teeth are cleaned, and I’ve packed the morning tea.
Perhaps I need to let go a little. Play hide and seek in the supermarket isle or take the family for a walk without bringing a spare set of everything and enough snacks for a soccer team. But it’s a delicate balance. And I still feel uneasy when my children shape the rosemary hedge armed with garden loppers and secateurs.
Only on dad days.
On dad days the children bake scones enveloped in flour, mow the grass with kitchen scissors, and eat lunch in the green house covered in dirt. They wear pajamas all-day, dissect fish heads, muck out the chicken pen, and build dreams from spare parts in the shed.
Only on dad days.
On dad days capabilities stretch and imaginations soar. The possibilities of life feel endless.
*
The dad of our little tribe is a wondrous beast: strong and cuddly, playful and spontaneous, knowledgeable and generous. A man with the universe in his heart.
He has a habit of getting through. Like the time he took the kids to the pool, without the swimming bag, and got everyone in. Or when he forgot the sun hats for a beach expedition and improvised with nappies.
I despair when I return home to a happily exhausted baby, who didn’t have a nap because, they didn’t seem tired. And wonder at the ease in which three small children are transported on their Dad’s bike to the library. I hope they ride safe.
But I know the joys of dad days wouldn’t be possible without me: the I’m tired Mum providing fresh underpants and full bellies. Or the not now Mum brushing tangled hair and wrestling limbs into woollen knits. Parenting can’t be measured by the number of smiles you gather in a day.
I know I am lucky to share life with a partner committed to our little family. Last week he granted me three nights out in a row with friends, no fuss. And I remember the evenings he took our baby to work so I could rest. I love how he can escape the house for the day with nothing besides the children.
But most importantly my husband inspires me. To take more risks. To have more patience. And to parent in a way that feels just right. Perhaps, my days are becoming more messy and magical, just like his.
*
On Tuesday morning we visit our local cafe. My three-year-old son wears his favourite vest, knitted by his grandma, in bright colours with little orange digger buttons.
Do you have a Phillips head screw-driver?, he asks the waitress, as she arranges the hot chocolates with extra marshmallows. The table top is wobbly and he wants to fix it.
The waitress smiles politely and turns to greet a family at a table by the window. I hand out the paper napkins and my children hatch a plan to return with a screwdriver and a level.
a beautiful poem for you
Incandescence
by Tasmanian poet Susan Austin
His class lines up in pairs at the berry farm. His free hand is held out for me to find. I’m surprised to feel his whole hand in my palm: he used to curl his fingers around one of mine. Another little last, like the daytime nap? Last time I hold his hand cross the street, last picture book read snuggled in my lap, the final time I help him brush his teeth. When will be the last we share a bath? No camera will snap the final trolley ride, the moment plastic cups give way to glass. His fluffy monkey comforter will slide - with the glee he gets from using arms to fart – into that chest of lost lasts in my heart.
Other things
winter is a time of rest for many creatives. I’m loving hearing from some of my favourite Aussie writers again —
— it’s like spring bulbs popping up in my garden— hello hello.our garden is sparkling, the house is tidy, we are almost packed for a big adventure. And just between us, I counted 70+ houseplants yesterday, oh dear! Is it hoarding if it’s plants?
keep an eye out in your inbox tomorrow. I can’t wait to share some Wild & Wonderful news with you.
Until next time,
wishing you joy and sunshine,
and time with your loved ones.
Hello Kate, and thank you so much for your little vote of confidence, it's so nice to be read. My girls have a similar dad, who is in fact out on an early morning before-school bike adventure with two of them right now, as I type this from my bed, hot coffee at hand! I must now go back into your feed to find this news you mention! Have a lovely weekend x
Hello hello hello back to you Kate. Love this homage to the wonderful Dads in your life , and your honouring of partnership where differences are valued and celebrated. As for houseplants, definitely not hoarding but multiplying green life, just what’s needed. Not sure how you care for 70 of them as well as kids and animals. 😅🌱💚