The biggest decision I’ve ever made for my children is the man I chose to be their father and it is one that I made willingly and knowingly.
I chose The Bearded Manc to be my partner and their father.
I chose his DNA.
I chose his relatives.
I chose his past.
I chose his education level.
I chose his nature.
I chose his level of sympathy and empathy – it is often lower than mine but it grounds me for that reason.
I chose his humour.
I chose him in spite of his lack of drive; he’s a coaster. He likes to be comfortable. So do I.
I chose his ability to show kindness.
I chose his beard and tattoos.
I chose his loyalty.
I chose his playfulness.
I chose him in spite of being a pest.
I chose his Manchester heritage.
I chose his fondness of football.
I chose his road rage.
I chose his intolerance of the tv license fee.
I chose his kindness towards animals.
I chose him despite his inability to stop swearing – I’m from a family of f*cking potty mouths so it makes sense.
I chose him in spite of not being a huge lover of ‘other people’s kids’. I knew he would love his own, he’s just never been around kids. He has a small family and he’s the baby.
I chose his cruel sense of humour – mine is the same.
I chose his ambivalence.
I chose his stable personality.
I chose his unwillingness to show emotion unless caught off guard or being forced to, nobody is perfect and underneath the cave man exterior, he’s a softy for his family and wept uncontrollably when both babies were born.
I chose his work ethic.
I chose his passion for music.
I chose his strength both physical and emotional.
I chose the way he lets me get away with murder.
I chose his self confidence.
I chose his face.
I chose the way he worships me.
I chose The Bearded Manc knowing his flaws and his strengths.
I weighed up the pros and cons before I married him and then I weighed them up again before taking the plunge and making babies with the brute.
But knowing someone before babies and knowing them afterwards are two very different things. You can never really know how someone will be once they have babies dependant upon them and it is a relief to say that he is an excellent father.
My babies adore their Daddy. He works extremely hard for them. Harder than any Daddy I know. And he does it without ever complaining about what he has to do or the fact that I am at home. He supports that decision wholeheartedly and that is something I will be eternally grateful for.
I chose The Bearded Manc to father my children and he chose me too. I hope I didn’t disappoint. He certainly doesn’t fall short against my extremely high measure of what a father should be. He stands tall. He has outgrown the yard stick I use.
I hope my babies agree that I made a good decision. I hope they learn from our relationship. I hope it teaches them about the absolute minimum standard they should accept from their partners. I hope it teaches them about what a family should be. I hope they see a strong Mum and a Dad who knows what’s important.
I hope they don’t see me swearing at him under my breath on a daily basis because whilst he’s an amazing Dad, he’s also a pain in the ar*e.