I'm a bad parent.
I must be, you should see the looks I get from parents and non-parents alike.
It's tough being weird.
It's even tougher being a weird parent. It's not just me who's being judged, it's my weird kids. And trust me, they're VERY weird.
1. Dressing up.
Everyone likes dressing up right?
Oh! My mistake! Judging by reactions to my panda outfit I badly misjudged the mood of a nation. But what about the photo of "The Best Dad EVER!", the chiselled jaw male model type with his half arsed cape holding the hand of a tiny Batman in the supermarket. We all loved that, it was heart wrenchingly cute. That dad was so dreamy.
I look like a maniac and am a complete stranger to dignity and self respect, my jaw is more Brucie than catwalk. No one would describe me as dreamy, unless they ate a lot of cheese and awoke with a pillow full of terrified tears.
A stranger walked up to us the other day when we were walking to the train station. I was dressed as a panda, the eldest child was some sort of Star Wars thing that I don't remember from my youth and the youngest was dressed as a dinosaur, with pink wellies (he loves pink, he knows what he wants and woe betide anyone who disagrees!). The stranger stood and stared. Then nodded, stared and nodded again. Finally she spoke words from her nodding face orifice.
"I've got to ask!" she said, like she'd just witnessed a horrific crime.
She nodded again, then stared.
For what seemed like a minute. A whole minute of staring silence from a complete stranger.
We stared.
She shook her head and walked away muttering about rudeness.
This is fairly standard behaviour! It beats people grabbing their children and pulling them out of our way like we're a runaway train full of wasps hellbent on crushing and sting their offspring into oblivion. But it does grate. We only wanted to go into London, see some buses and pretend to drive the DLR.
We shall not be deterred though, we are weird, we revel in it.
Weird parents recognise other weird parents. Weird parents recognise the kids of weird parents, and if your normal kids come to our houses they'll leave wishing you were weirder too.
2. Dance dance dance!
Dancing is great. When people say they can't dance, what they mean is they don't want to look like a complete tool and risk being labelled a bellend. There is no time when dancing is not appropriate (well, funerals and some wakes if we're being ultra picky), we frequently moonwalk around the supermarket, do the running man in a restaurant or drop some sick moves in the street. When we're at home we dance like everyone's watching, of course, it helps that we don't have curtains in the living room or any self awareness at all.
3. Entertain yourself.
Whether he likes it or not, my colleague Dave has all the makings of a classic gold plated weird parent. He's new to this, his baby is still an incoherent flesh bag of tears and excrement, but by Jove he's got the weird skills. When his baby is having a massive screaming fit (and, non-parents, they do this a lot) he likes to pretend that he's an angry UKIP voter screaming the odds into the void. In the lulls between the screams Dave will reason with the pretend right wing wrongnut, trashing his policies and ravaging his rhetoric. Good phrases to throw into the mix are "Now let me finish!" and "You've had your say, now please allow me my comprehensive rebuttal sir!". Your child will learn new words, big adult words, and will absorb the finer points of left wing liberal political discourse. Dave's a genius, a weird, weird genius.
4. The workout.
Children can be appalling. There, it's out there now, I'm not taking that back. Children can sense weakness and will go in for the emotional kill at the drop of an H. When they strike, be prepared. Be prepared to act like nothing is happening.
There will come a time when your children decide that the greatest mode of transport known to humankind is being dragged along the floor clinging desperately to your legs. Screaming. Always with the screaming. The solution? Go with it, plough on through gritted teeth. Sure they'll get filthy, but on the plus side you'll get a good workout and they'll get a much needed boost to their immune system from having their faces scraped along filthy floors. You'll look like a heartless monster, but you'll have the thighs of a god!
5. Fun with pens.
Tattoos are the ubiquitous fashion regret waiting to happen du jour. In the same way that people don't expect me to be a vegetarian, they presume that the weird bloke in the dungarees who has stumbled out of a musical version of Deliverance must be inked to the gills. I'm not, and never will be. Not while sharpies exist! Why spend a fortune on toys when you can turn your hand into a pirate, a princess or a dinosaur? Kids love them, adults are completely bamboozled by them. It's a classic win/win scenario!
Also ideal for confusing other humans is "The Shazam". Based on the incredible interview between David Blaine and Eamonn Holmes where the unhinged magician grunted his way through the questions occasionally revealing a single eye drawn onto the palm of his hand. Simply draw an eye onto your palm, approach a stranger with your palm upwards and outwards, shout the word "SHAZAM" and then stare until they move away. There is no cheaper form of fun.
6.The tantrum test.
When all else fails, leave them to it. Walk away, obviously don't actually bugger off and leave them, turn a corner, hide and wait. They'll stop when they realise you don't care. You will be judged heavily for this, mostly by the childless and NCT devotees, but if you've got this far you'll be so past caring that nothing bothers you anymore.
A message to those who feel the need to interfere and rush over and comfort my screaming demanding brats: Just don't. You'll inflame the situation, and then you'll find I join in, by screaming at you, we've already established that I don't mind causing a scene. Some may say that I revel in it. Which leads us on nicely to……
7. EGG!
Finally it's time to admit something. We love to irritate everyone around us. It's our calling and the supermarket is our coloseum of vexation. Thus, "EGG!" was born. The rules are simple, shout egg as often and as loudly as possible in as many different accents as possible. There is absolutely no point to this game other than to annoy everyone around you. However, victory can be achieved when you hear other shoppers joining in from across the supermarket aisles!
So next time you see a strangely dressed parent with equally strangely dressed children, screaming, shouting egg and rolling around on the floor screaming, don't judge us. Join in, free yourselves from the yoke of self awareness and be a massive child who is, in theory, in charge of some small children.
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