'Oh I'm not the father'. It's a reply I've given and been able to give quite a few times since early this year and I am fully aware of my longing to say it for that internal smug factor as the ensuing conversation reveals I am helping to look after someone else's baby. I hope others have that secret something they love to talk about because it paints them in a good light. Just to make myself feel better.
I feel guilty because fishing for compliments for looking after my goddaughter seems like 'cashing in'. I do help out but not that much. I help babysit here and there but getting positive praise is not really deserved. After all you're supposed to look after family and she is more family than not.
But then I make it sound like a chore. It really isn't. It can be tiring looking after someone who has an inexplicably large amount of energy relative to their tiny body size. Constantly wriggling and squirming as something ( generally electronic and not very safe ) takes her fancy and needs investigating with a hard smack or bite. But there's something a little addictive about being around a baby.
The first smile in the morning or the way she jerks her body like excited babies do as I hold her arms up and let her stand on her own accord. The sudden crawling she has developed ( 6.5 months old I tells ya!) and sitting her on my lap only to have her lunge forward to grab at my laptop and give the keyboard a proper investigative whomp. They are all good moments.
I love her like family , she is family I guess and I do find myself thinking about her at work, talking to others about her.
Technically I owe her. Not just to be a guardian because I am around but because she really gave me the best excuse to curb my drinking. In a full calendar year I have drank 9 times. Considering it used to be 2-3 times a weekend I'd say thats cause for a (tea based) celebration. I honestly feel better and people have said I look better. She's responsible for my new lease of life and for that I most definitely owe her a nice upbringing.
She's gone from a tiny baby incapable of any kind of verbal communication , totally unable to focus on anything around her, to a happy squealy baby. She sees me in the morning and for a brief second studies my face before her gorgeous half moon smile of recognition.
I love making her laugh and did so recently wearing her trousers over my head while making the legs swing round wildly while singing 'YEAH YEAH YEAH', repeatedly...song-writing not strong in this one, but it led to some wonderful bouts of screaming giggles.
The laughter is too good and like a drug I am willing to suffer personal harm to get my fix.
I'll lie her down on my lap and swing her legs into my face with dramatic sound effects throwing my head to the side in slow motion , she worryingly loves it especially if I act shocked that I have just been whomped and the harder I kick myself with her feet the funnier she finds it.
But this is nothing compared to that moment when she looks totally contented , gazing at me. Just lying there all happy and contented and it's the nicest feeling in the world. No one else can make you feel that way , a successful guardian / grown-up / an important person in their world.
I do my bit.
Living with a baby is great. It helps that mum is loving ( dad is now responsible which took a lot to U-turn around which I think was commendable ) obviously because I think this baby's true personality is from her hard work and dedication.
But I like to think some of her laughter and happiness is because of me. I owe her some good memories, hopefully where I don't get socked in the head.
You can find more of the same at Graeme's blog