Eleven months, two weeks and four days ago my life was pretty simple; I was floating along, working, admiring my Marine Fish, going out at a moment's notice and living life on the edge - and by edge, I mean if I wanted a McDonalds I'd just have one (but being over 30 means it rattles in my body for a week or so...) I was kinda like that Disney character with one of those cartoon birds chirping on his shoulder as I skipped down the road. Life was easy...in comparison.
However, it's funny how a small stick with wee on can change your life so dramatically!... well that, and having sex without wearing 'waterproofs. Obviously I didn't wee on the stick, I was tempted though as I'd heard this myth that if you do, and it changes colour or something, it's to do with a faulty prostate.
So here's a little bit about me - and us - since the only thing I'll ramble on about after this fairly normal blog post is fatherhood.
When I'm not bouncing, swaying, changing, feeding and 'wind-ing' the little one I'm a Senior Talent Manager at a Talent Management firm in the heart of London representing talent across Music, Sport and Media.
Tash, my fiancé, is an Interior Designer who creates the look-and-feel of several high-end shops. Sounds posh huh? I believe though she just picks cushions and plays with crayons. She is the smartest dumb person I know; she navigates design programs like a spotty teenager playing FIFA yet Angry Birds brings her brain to a complete stand-still like the M25 during rush-hour.
We are two peas in a pod. She's my rock - and she even laughs at all my jokes, so if you didn't smile reading this it's her fault. We also have a little Bichon Frise called Poppy who isn't happy unless being cuddled and fussed over. (Introducing her to our little one is a story for another time...)
We got engaged a few years ago, and second to creating a new life, I hold my 'Engagement Proposal' as my second biggest achievement, (closely followed though by the time I rescued a rubber brick from the bottom of a swimming pool wearing my PJ's, and as I don't own PJ's and I've not seen rubber brick since, that skill set now seems pretty redundant.)
Sorry I went off on a tangent there. So anyway, I spent about 3 months nagging the head-honcho at BT to give in to a bit of an outrageous proposal. And clearly fed up of all the emails, she gave in and agreed to put 'Will you Marry Me Tash?' round the top of the infamous BT tower - as we both watched from a near-by rooftop across London.
Sounds romantic eh? I think it was, but I was so nervous I forgot what to say and to this day I don't think she said Yes...but she didn't say No, so that's what I'm hanging onto. She also drank too much champagne and was sick in the cab on the way home... and 'holding her hair back' was not quite how I saw the evening ending.
As I write this brief insight, my son Rafferty is now 6 weeks old. Tash is better after quite an intense labour, however we're both exhausted and I'm having to re-wear clothes. Poppy has just about got used to the fact she's not the priority but she continues to want to lick him to death and demands attention - but Raffy being sick on her head last night was another reminder who's in charge! (Who needs a dog whistle?!)
Not only was my son born but recently so was my new blog; 'Plumsnet,' www.plumsnet.co.uk which I decided to start as a 'dad blog' to document my journey - and which I can also show Raffy when he's older to embarrass him and use as leverage. Also I'll hopefully bring a smile to those who have been through it and those who are intrigued to see it through the man's eyes.
I look forward to sharing my journey with you.
www.plumsnet.co.uk