I’ve completed a triathlon (just), the Wicklow Challenge, two bungee jumps, a parachute jump and the inaugural winter Hell & Back a few years ago – but nothing prepared me for the four days I’ve just had.
I’ve been a father of two for 17 months now, but until this week the longest I was left in charge of them was an overnight last year. Then came Thursday morning, when myself, Chloe (4) and Mia (1) waved goodbye to the wife/mum/oracle/boss!
What followed was 84 hours of Daddy Day Care. We went to a few playgrounds, one zoo, two playdates, one duck pond, four coffee shops, one Mickey D’s, both sets of grandparents, one set of godparents and one much-needed expedition to Smyths Toys in The Blanch Centre.
There were explosive nappies followed by impromptu baths. There were tantrums followed by declarations of love. There were tears followed by laughs.
I’ve cooked more dinners over the last four days than the rest of 2015. I finally cracked a decent ponytail on Chloe’s head, although that fifth loop remains elusive.
I’ve had three awful night’s sleep and four very early starts. I even squeezed in a few showers during nap times. Result.
There are no medals or certificates – and no competitors for that matter – but the fact that we survived this adrenalin-fuelled, high-risk endurance event without anyone dying or requiring hospital AND had the craic means that I won.
All I need to do now is clean the gaff before tonight and delete the search history on the computer. Then it’s time to talk to Sarah about the lads’ golf trip in August. Wish me luck.