You will Never win 😂


It was around 8pm last night , Id just knocked up my signature dish of omelette and wedges, borderline Michelin star stuff I know!
Things at home have slipped back into a more normal routine since Christmas and the kids have been well again and sleeping. That thought crossed my mind as my two babies slept soundly and I virtually high dived myself in the kitchen for bossing parenthood and just generally being a legend.

‘Eeeeeeddddd’ came the screech from the other end of the house, this couldn’t be good I thought. ‘Wilf has thrown up everywhere!!’
Hmmm and he had.

The cot, his sheep skin, sleep bag, teddies were covered. He’d splattered it about like a muck spreader , I can only imagine he stood up and spun round whilst it was happened.
Anyway like a well oiled disaster response team we jumped Into action.
I did the search, rescue and human decontamination in the bath whilst my wife set about a forensic level clean down .
On went he second set of sheets , sheepskin and new bed clothes were ready. Everything was anti bac wiped and the soiled sheets ect went on a hot wash .
I hosed him down and in fairness he was in pretty good spirits , all considered.

Then we made a small but fairly devastating error. One which was rookie from a couple of seasoned pros…..We gave him a little milk to go back to sleep.

Nooo I hear you say? Well yes we did and All seemed well for an hour or so but then the dreaded noise came from his room again and we jumped into action once more. Back in the bath, stripped down and left near the washing machine (sheets not child). We Made the bed and sat and cuddled him for a while, unfortunately just when dressed he went again…. we were in big trouble now . We were out of sheets and the washing machine was still going!

That’s when the fun really started. We had to lift the eldest boy out of his bed and into ours , that went fairly well and then we slept with young Wilf in that bed. It was the last of the sick but for my wife it was a restless sleep and for me it was a mixture of being head of the laundrette and making sure the Big boy didn’t fall out of our bed whilst also trying to put the youngest room back together! Wilf decided to get up at 4 and has now had a nap.
I’m off work with him knackered and He’s having a ball, you wouldn’t know he’d been so I’ll. He has got daddy , his brothers toys and the house to himself.

The moral to this story is , if it’s going well Don’t even think about congratulating yourself. Because it will literally come back to haunt you! Also, no more milk, and 3 sets of bedding isn’t enough. Get ten jus to be sure 😂.

Anyway, the joys of parenthood knows no bounds. We’re back to bossing it today. How couldn’t you with a carpet like that!



Nochy the Elf finally bloody arrives. Let’s just say his hot air balloon caught the wrong thermals….

So yesterday was the first day of advent and we were awoken early by our 3 year old. “Daddy?!!!Mummy?!!!” he shouted as loud as he could. “Be quiet or you’ll wake your little brother “ I fired back from the honking master bedroom, more worried katy would wake and tell me off for the smell of the room.

‘Can I have my chocolate yet? ‘ said our little boy with an amazing memory for the good things on offer In life.

“Is your sun up yet” I asked , knowing full well it was only half five and it wouldn’t be up till six .

“No but I can’t wait” said Henry and I caved pretty much immediately .

I’ll be honest , I know when it’s a waste of time and this was one of those moments.

At no stage was he going to back down and say “do you know what daddy ? , you’re right , I’ll go back to bed for another Half an hour and you go back to sleep pops”

So up I got up Tired Already from the night time shenanigans with the youngest , I pulled on my overly baggy slouchy trousers , or as we shall call them from now Dad slacks and a hoody and went into the living room. I’m currently at fat fighters with my wife, we’re trying to lose some weight and set a good example for the boys , in short I pay to be reminded how to eat well and then stick to it by the shame of a weigh in. Should I wish I can then sit in a room with a group of women for an hour and talk about how we can make syn free Ferrero roche and what our dream weight would be. The answer my weight in Cadbury’s giant buttons surprisingly isn’t recognized. Secretly I like the group after weigh in but let’s not bang on about that too much .

Any way back to the first day of advent and Unfortunately no one had broken in and nicked our 1960s axminster pub carpet and replaced it with some less offensive flooring , so I still managed to tread on a bit of rice cake that had camouflage itself into the vintage shag pile!

Henry immediately made a beeline for his advent train, we found the no1 draw And before I knew it he’d demolished his chocolate and we were sat snuggling watching Nella the princess night Whilst I made up some hard line bollocks about waiting for the sun to come up tomorrow or not getting his advent chocolate . He nodded in agreement whilst I can only imagine thinking ,Dad you’re softer than a marshmallow…. wrap up your hollow threats I can’t hear what nella is saying.

Now I’m. It sure if the older half of the Mitchell brothers knew.. (ooh sorry Mum I promised I wouldn’t use that comparison again. Zip it , it’s buried.) that the plan had been that our elf on the shelf would be in residence by now but a perfect storm of miscommunication ,timings, snow and a really frustrating Squash match meant we were a Day behind.

Henry doesn’t understand time or date so the chocolate in the train was enough to keep his mind off the fact he hadn’t got his elf yet.

Anyway Enoch jingle bells or ,nochy for short (we will go with nochy because inadvertently we gave our elf a name that people seem to only associate with a horrible figure from the past🙄)had been made by a friend and we managed to repeatedly mess up the elf exchange. He did however finally arrive mid afternoon yesterday and is now part of the family. Carefully watching the boys goings on and reporting back to Santa and setting up games ect through the night. This morning he’s reading to his mats from the North Pole until wilf body slams him out of that literary circle.

Henry seems taken by him and he helped us decorate the tree, this year Curtesy of my slightly batty wife and liberty stores liberating us of a considerably amount of cash we have a parrot on the top of the tree and not the traditional angel or star.

It actually looks pretty cool and the boys love it. We’re really set up for xmas now so bring , just keep eating the advent chocolates , wrapping the presents(buying them I guess would help) and busting out he Christmas tunes.

Over protective mother bans use of Mitchell brother comparison on light hearted daddy blog….

Phil and grant , the Mitchell brothers . Once one time unrivaled enforcers of Walford , London lotharios , landlords of the Queen Vic , owners of the archers and general leg breakers.

If you aren’t au fait with this set of brothers then , you’re either too young, congratulations and in which case you’re looking at these blokes thinking ‘Isn’t that the bloke off Ross Kemp on Gangs And the guy that got caught dogging?’ Correct on both counts. Or you’re from overseas and spent the ‘90s enjoying the out side life instead of being stuck inside watching Eastenders because it got dark at 5 And was always pissing down with rain.

Anyway these two were pretty famous as was their on screen Mum Peggy Mitchell or the ‘Duchess’ as her Frank used to call her(not the boys Dad BTW). It’s probably worth noting that I do not draw any comparisons between my current wife ,the mother of my Two boys and ‘The duchess’ , it really wouldn’t be worth my while or personal safety .

Anyway for a while now I’ve starts calling my boys the Mitchell brothers. Mainly because they are brothers , both a little rough at times and very much in charge of their own destiny. It’s a joke obviously, I teach them to be kind and thoughtful and as gentle as Possible but it doesn’t always get through to them. By no means do I want them to emulate the Mitchell brothers especially not the alcoholic dogging one , phil for those who are still interested .

In one of my earlier posts I may have referred to them as said brothers and that was the final straw. My wife has now officially requested that that term be dropped and I could tell from her tone that it wasn’t negotiable . So from this point the Mitchell brothers are dead….. long live the McNamara brothers! God help us.

Over and out .

The Problems Being The Second Child

I , the Destroyed Daddy am myself a second born child. I don’t tend to dwell on the fact nor did I think about what that position in the pecking order ever really meant to me growing up. I guess I always just looked at my sister when I was younger and thought I got the looks she got the brains!! Rather than anything more deep!

But since Wilf graced us with his beautiful presence I’ve stared to compare the differences that a second born , and wilf in particular has had to contend with compared to his Big bruv Henry.

You have a lot of obvious stuff like the sharing of toys and affection. Which on their own are big enough deals. The fact that most toys are hand me downs and he then normally has to let his brother dominate playing with them. There’s the sad but unavoidable issue that he rarely gets one on one time with either mummy or daddy and god forbid we ever have a count up of baby pictures because he is about a thousand short of his brother!

These are all fairly standard observations and I understand that . But if you think about it and whilst it’s no ones fault , the way parental time is split with two it’s not very fair on the second! I guess the counter argument from 1st borns would be how unfair it was the no2 came and stole their parents but I’ll leave that for my sister to write about if she has any problem with it!

He’s defiantly a different boy to his brother, and of course one would expect that as all children are different .But I think his temperament is defiantly linked to how we have been with him.

Like any baby he does of course look for attention but doesn’t seem to need it constantly , hes much better at amusing himself and certainly more head strong than his brother. He doesn’t need as much close affection, unlike his brother , hugs and kisses are hard to come by and he seems to have a harder edge . Maybe I’m reading to much into it and I certainly don’t sit and blame myself or his Mum. We love him and give him as much attention as we can but there is a ceiling limit to what you can do with two.

But nevertheless Wilf is still thriving, he doesn’t know any different and until he has a couple of kids (if ever ) he probably won’t even think about it.

He turned one last week and the same day cracked how to walk. He’s getting about everywhere and loving it.

He’s surviving the beatings his brother dishes out, some through over zealous play , others from just generally acts of brotherly thuggery ! But I have a sneaky feeling that this little tank will have his revenge soon enough.

No 2 in age but joint 1st in our hearts xx

The inevitable has happened. Mummy’s maternity leave ends!!

Whilst the candles are still smoking from little Wilfs 1st birthday and the dust is settling after our mock Christmas this weekend ,something a little important has been sneaking in under the radar…. the maternity countdown has reached its climax.

After 1 year , 12months, 52 weeks , 365days it’s overs and tomorrow my wife is going back to work, albeit only for a half day. But you can’t rush these things I’m told.

It’s a bittersweet moment and I’m sure mothers and fathers who have been in the same position will agree that each parent will have a slightly different take on the-situation. What we can agree on is that my wife has once again been a been and continues to be a fantastic mother and this time not just a little baby but his older brother at the same time . It’s been another learning curve in motherhood but she has managed it well and the boys continue to thrive mainly because of her dedication and love . Also having a legend of a Dad can only help🙄

esome carpet I know!

But all this said from daddy’s point of view i feel it’s a good thing. I’m reserving the jumping for joy until I’m out of site but from my eyes 2.5 days a week back at work means that the boys will get half their daily stimulation at nursery and the the other half at home with mummy.

Katy will regain some sanity back in a purely adult environment, whilst i won’t expect to hear anymore whining about not being able to eat or poo on her own as now she can now do both , even simultaneously if she so pleases at work (probably won’t need to hear about it if she does mind you) and she will be paid for the privilege .

Ah did someone say ‘paid’? Yes possibly the hardest part of maternity leave for us was the money, not so much to start with but when it tailed off to pretty much bugger all half way through it started to have an affect. It’s easily been our biggest trigger points for arguing and not always because we didn’t have any but mainly because we didn’t adjust our quality of living .

We still had holidays and eat out when we wanted, we kept the full sky package and continued to upgrade the house. What’s the problem ? Well I guess it’s the pressure it put on me. None of which I blame on katy. But being self employed I have ended up working a lot to keep us where we want to be and I know this isn’t A new phenomenon but it caused stress fractures in our relationship at times , along with our general sleep deprivation and from my perspective , this little bit of extra money will be great and give katy her independence back.

Im not sure there is a right or wrong decision about going back to work and if we adapted our lifestyle katy probably could stay at home , but I feel the boys will benefit as will katy from the socialization. As will our heating bills…. I’m joking ….. I think.

So that’s it , a cold November morning in 2017 and we will be up early getting the boys to where they need to be , wiping a few tears away of joy and sadness and starting the next chapter of parenthood …. both working 😬

The Christmas Day rehearsal results are in……..

C1379E90-4FFE-4821-815A-F4B73229471CMy beautiful in-laws each year around the end of November throw an advent dinner. It’s a mixture of thanksgiving and a religious dinner(albeit with no hint of religion bar name)

The prince of the family ,my brother in law returns home from London ,as does the youngest sibling , whilst our local branch of the family ,my wife’s other sister , her husband and their two boys aged 9 and 2 come and my rabble complete the group.


We eat a big dinner , dress the Xmas tree, give little gifts and play games.
I always view it as a leveler for Christmas Day. We can use the experience to pre gauge how mental the day and mainly how fucking crazy our kids will be.


Well it’s 8 pm and quiet has finally blanketed the house. All kids have gone or are asleep.
The meal was beautiful and ,well , the kids all kicked off at different times , mine saved it till late on when the day had finally caught up with them. It’s hard work trying to remember that these are the days I will Miss the most when they are older…. but the noise…. the noise was so loud and relentless .

I once again am turning to rum tonight. I thank you havana club, you have saved
Me. Back to the grind tomorrow but not until after I’ve spent the Night hiding from my youngest who’s in a travel cot in our room!


Caught between a Rum and a hard place


Friday night and the Mitchell brothers are recharging their bodies for another full on assault on mother and father tomorrow.

I’ve just had my pants pulled down in a Squash match that did nothing to make me feel better about myself, dinner was pesto pasta(rock star) and now the mental battle begins.

I’ve always loved a drink and weekends were normally the time I loved them the most , even since the boys have been on the scene I still enjoyed a beer and wine regularly and happily.

But recently I’ve been trying to lose a bit of timber and beer and wine allegedly is frowned upon at fat fighters….. rum however isn’t deemed as bad!

I first fell in love with rum whilst spending a month traveling Cuba. We travelled east to west ,north to south. On foot, bus , illegal taxis and flat bed trucks. We immersed ourselves in Cuban life at a time when Fidel Castro was still very much in power. When spending time with Cubans In Their homes we sampled many different rums, rarely the expensive variety and normally white. But I fell in love with it in various different forms, weather it be Cuban libre ( rum and coke) mojitos or just straight down the hatch. I enjoyed its taste and versatility.


When back in the capital Havana we decided we had to take the Havana club factory tour and that’s when my obsession really hit. It’s range of rums from the 3 year aged white , mixed anejo especial , 7year aged and upwards really took my taste buds to a great place.
Now 11 Years on I have a plan to own various different rums from Cuba to japan , Australia to Antigua .

It’s been pointed out that it’s just as bad as train spotting, rum collecting could be deemed a little sad but I do intend to drink them. I’ll probably tell you about that when it happens too!

But tonight as the pounds drop off , even the ‘good ‘ rum and Diet Coke really should be left on the shelf, the kids won’t sleep through and will be up at 530, I’ve got work in the morning, weigh In At fat fighters is on Tuesday…… bugger it I’m going to have one, a 7 year old Havana club . It’s taste will instantly take me back to the streets of the Cuban capital, or the hut we camped in half way up torquino peak in the Sierra maestra , it will remind me of easier times , but not better , it’s an escape from a more tired life but one which is far richer…. although someone remind me of that in the early hours of the morning .
Have a great weekend people .


Sleep terroroists tag team.

9BA98158-33B0-4C61-9B23-205E113F543A.jpegThe first sign of trouble was at 2230 as I took off my over sized slouchy pants and headed to the marital sleeping quarters.

The bedroom is now really a very single functioning room….. for sleep only. My darling wife and I love each other still dearly but these little sleep terrorists Have put a current stop to any active love life , we’ll pick it back up when we’re in our 50s and leave the door open to punish our then teenage monsters .

Anyway where was I? That’s right, I was stripping down , slowly,  revealing a once chiseled (that’s a lie) physique , now more resembling a slightly deflated balloon when the 1 yrs old started to stir, bugger we’re on …. I’ll feed him some milk that may work… but by the time the milk is ready the sqwarking has awoken the terror ringleader 3 year old. Now we’re on.

Through the night when one was asleep the other wasn’t, it was trench warfare . I deployed every act of depomacy in my armour. Kind Daddy, sensitive Daddy, cuddly Daddy, Angry daddy…. lose my shit because I have to be at work in 2 hours Daddy.

But they Cared little . Believe what you like these boys are in control. Send super Nanny over and they’ll break her in days.

Its hard not to admire their will power and tactics but then it’s hard to do anything really on three hours sleep!

Anyway the battle goes into  another night tonight and I’ll be ready. But probably not ready enough.

Destroyed Dad.

A bit of living room WWE and suddenly I’m a blogger


It Was seemingly just a Quiet Sunday winter afternoon in the cold English countryside. My wife had barricaded herself in the kitchen with her insta stories (video blogs that appear to talk solely about kids) , a bottle of cheap red wine and the ingredients for a roast to provide respite from Phil and Grant Mitchell, i mean our kids.

I was sitting on our broken reclining sofa which had recently arrived in mint condition from my parents, but within a couple of months between my boys and myself we had wrecked. Kung -fu panda was kicking some ass on the tv which was keeping my 3 year old , Henry pretty well occupied and my little one year old Wilf was just keeping himself to himself , playing with a few of his toys (henrys handle downs) and trying occasionally grab my attention for a quick cuddle.

Recently Wilf had started to become pretty competent at cruising the furniture. He generally did this with a cheeky grin and boundless energy. This Sunday was slightly different. The cruising had slowed down and his new trick and next phase was begining. This was the free standing phase where he would sporadically just get up and stand in the middle of the room.

So the scene was set. Kung-fu Panda was beating the crap out of someone on the tv, Henry to my knowledge was happy just watching it and Wilf was showing that he could stand on his own little two feet.

But the mood was soon to change and change very quickly. Wilf lifted himself to standing position down one end of the living room on our rather disgusting inherited 60’s red floral axminster carpet, whilst simultaneously Henry slid off the sofa at the other end . I thought little of it , then Henry broke into a sprint and ran at Wilf, this caught my attention but noooooo!!!! it was too late, like something straight out of WWE he clotheslined his brother. It was flawless, stunning , the crowd would have been off their seats , it was the finishing move to end any sibling dispute (had their been such a thing in this case).

Wilf hit the deck  with the expression of ‘what the fucking fuck did he do that for’ drawn across his face , then the tears came. I exploded out of the seat like a sumo after a donut immediately  thinking maybe i should just even this up with a ‘Chokeslam’ and call it quits, but luckily the small bit of adult in me decided that Henry should just have a wee bit of time on his own.

Tears mopped up and Henry back in the room and apologised the afternoon could continue. The rational behind such a move was that kung-fu panda had made him do it and i decided that it wasn’t worth much more of an argument so we agreed that it was wrong and we shouldn’t hurt anybody certainly not our baby brother.

I then sat there and thought about all the things that have happened since the boys came into my life, all the funny things they bring , the stresses that come with being a dad and trying to accept that you are now the responsible one. I thought about how best it was remember these things , good bad and ugly and Well here it is , i guess sharing is the best way so be prepared to be amused, bored and hopefully entertained over the coming days , months and years.

Who the hell am I?

2DC22316-9667-470B-92D2-41B856622227.jpegWelcome to The Destroyed Daddy!
I am a mid thirties ,out of shape ,tired, working father of two little boys aged 3 and 1.
This Is my Take on Fatherhood,co parenting, children, life before children , lack of Money, love, endless nappies and genreral day to day shenanigans!
Bienvenue to the inner sanctum of my seemingly mental but probably quite ordinary life.