There are things I don't always understand about dad, for a start, what does he actually do when I am in school, its not the cleaning because mum has cleaners in every week. He says the ironing but I am not sure about that when I look at the pleats on my trousers and all my shirts look crumbled. I sometimes catch mum doing her shirts in the morning when she's rushing to work, while dad is still in bed.  And why is it that the man at the coffee shop, where we go for after school treats, know his order from memory (skinny latte, thats a joke). Why does his gym bag always occupy the same spot under the stairs, when he is not obsessive. 

Well, apparently he does Art and writes this blog, of sorts and as to the Art, well he does not exactly make a living from it. If he had an account it would be in the negative, the paint, the canvas and that expensive framing. And if he paints then why does he buy all that art, some of which I do not understand.

Do you understand your dad? Maybe when I get older it will all fall into place then again would it be better if it stayed a mystery. That way he would always surprise me. He would do the unpredictable and he might  always have the right thing to say when I think there are no right things. Maybe he would stroke me when I don't have to ask. Because I might never understand my dad but I know that my dad will always try to understand me. He will get ahead of me, watch out for those hurdles and holes and pick me up if I fall. Know that I have to wipe away my own tears and not run for the tissue paper. He will know when to shout and cheer but also show discretion in praise.  He will know things I don't know but never belittle me. He will know that I have to do it my way, that this sometimes will not work but never judge me for my errors. I know he will not always get it right but that he feels his mistakes but like many of a dad, not always be able to confess up. I know that we can share things and not have to speak because just being in each other s company is enough. 

I understand this much, that my dad will always want to understand me and not judge me and I know that this he has learnt from my mum because she understands us both. Mum is our warrior maker and dad knows, he understands that behind all real warriors is the love of a mother.

Keeping up a blog is quite hard work. There is so much that happens. I heard Tony Benn (an english MP) talking about his diaries. He kept an account everyday for like 30 plus years.Thats dedication. I am also trying to keep up with twitter. Its like being in a room with a thousand people all talking to you at once. Its the internet on speed, its FB with a coke habit, its opening your door to 100 salesman at once. Its also a place to connect with people who are like minded and to pick up so many tips and interesting things to follow up, once you cleared through the some of the not so good, a bit like going into the garage and finding that stuff you always knew you wanted to keep but you fill up a skip getting to it.

Its also been a bit of a twitter week or two in our household and by that I mean so may things going on. Fred just seems to come out with little gems all the time, I can't catch them all and my wife sums it all up with

Tenderly, as I succumb to having to be up on this particular morning 'you poor thing, you need a housewife to look after you, don't you' strokes me affectionately.

And then there is the 'I love the way you put on perfume instead of showering ' and she means it.

Not forgetting that my wife has also been working on the 'war room' at work, she's not military but has been given a brief to pull tother a counter competitive defense team or something like that. Don't you just love that moment that you realize that as a man with a stay at home position, you can mark that moment you truly become a housewife, as she rattled on and I just got more and more lost. Brains scrambled by corporate talk she turns to me in bed and says 'what would be a good name for the team', what's a tank thats agile and quick, 'scorpion' and 'it has a sting in the tail'. A bit like being a SAHD, you think its a breeze, until that day when your sex changes.