In a past life I used to work for a Children's Centre and we ran a number of play groups for parents and their children. I say parents. I mean mums. The vast majority of adults that attended these groups were of the female persuasion.
I always stood out. It took me a long time to feel comfortable walking in, and I was a worker. I cannot imagine how difficult it was for those dads who also had to contend with feeling like they were being watched and judged. I don't think they were, but I can imagine that is how they felt.
Now as a parent I have been into those groups but that is as a parent who is used to being in those environments. What I have enjoyed the most, though, is the monthly group just for dads and their children that I attend.
Once a month a group of us gather in a church hall to have tea, a bacon bap and a catch up.It is the best Saturday of my month and everyone is a winner! My wife gets a break (brownie points in the bank), our kids get to have a play and we get to be dads en masse.
Groups like this, in my opinion, are vital. As a society traditional roles and support networks have eroded which has left some isolated and unsure of what to do. Groups such as this offer a place to belong, to talk and to share the common experience of fatherhood. The problem is that they are few and far between.
There are only a handful of organisations (Dangerous Dads, Who Let The Dads Out?) that deal with dads specifically. Most children's centres have stopped their dads groups and only run universal services but despite the workers' intentions these are rarely easy for dads to get to, particularly if they are working dads.
If you are able to get to one - go along. If not - get in touch with a local venue and set one up. Grab some mates with kids, and just start something. It will probably grow and it may become a major source of support for someone else who might be struggling. Membership of a group is so important, for both physical and mental health. When you become a parent it is sometimes hard to maintain the membership of pre-child groups so look for ways to engage in new groups.
Those monthly Saturdays are one way that I do it and I cannot recommend it highly enough.
Showing posts with label parenting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label parenting. Show all posts
Tuesday, 20 February 2018
Sunday, 14 January 2018
Second child syndrome
In the past week Toby has eaten pizza, oven chips and cake. A couple of weeks ago he had custard. A little time before that he had a jar of baby food despite us never having given Henry anything (until completely weaned) that we had not prepared ourselves from scratch.
My mother-in-law told me often when we were controlling what Henry ate "it's so much harder with the next one, they see what their older sibling is eating and they want it".
Oooo...it pisses me off when she is right.
Toby will now sit in his highchair like some toothless despot screaming at us if we have the temerity to have something on our plate that he does not also have smeared across his tray. Tonight's source of fury?
Some lettuce. Lettuce!
So I tore a leaf off and threw it at him. Perhaps with more force than was strictly necessary but luckily it was only lettuce. Good job I wasn't eating a baked potato. Or a pie. Or the plate.
Once dinner was finished, and we had completed the ritual of letting him mash whatever is in his bowl into a pulp, then spoon whatever we can scrape from between his fingers/down the side of his chair/off the carpet into his mouth because he has now realised he is hungry and cannot actually feed himself, I had some cake.
ROAR!
(which I believe is baby-speak for "excuse me, father, would you be so kind as to share a morsel of that simply delicious looking baked delicacy that you appear to be consuming with some gusto?")
It was some homemade banana and chocolate loaf that had been made by Em. Henry did not have chocolate until his first birthday. So I picked out all the visible chunks of chocolate and lobbed a mouthful of cake at him. Again, perhaps with a little more enthusiasm that many would have deemed necessary but I was enjoying it and had been looking forward to finishing it!
There really is a difference in what becomes acceptable for the second child. Toby has been exposed to television (we didn't even own one until Henry was two), to some questionable dietary choices (I still feel a bit guilty about the pizza), to hand-me-downs, to Henry (a thoroughly adoring but somewhat exuberant big brother) and to loud music (he now regularly falls asleep in the middle of our bed to whichever awful pop-playlist Em is tidying up to).
I do wonder if we are going to make it until May before we sell our souls completely and stick him in a chocolate fountain. And whether or not I should just stick some whisky in his beaker and get a good night's sleep.
My mother-in-law told me often when we were controlling what Henry ate "it's so much harder with the next one, they see what their older sibling is eating and they want it".
Oooo...it pisses me off when she is right.
Toby will now sit in his highchair like some toothless despot screaming at us if we have the temerity to have something on our plate that he does not also have smeared across his tray. Tonight's source of fury?
Some lettuce. Lettuce!
So I tore a leaf off and threw it at him. Perhaps with more force than was strictly necessary but luckily it was only lettuce. Good job I wasn't eating a baked potato. Or a pie. Or the plate.
Once dinner was finished, and we had completed the ritual of letting him mash whatever is in his bowl into a pulp, then spoon whatever we can scrape from between his fingers/down the side of his chair/off the carpet into his mouth because he has now realised he is hungry and cannot actually feed himself, I had some cake.
ROAR!
(which I believe is baby-speak for "excuse me, father, would you be so kind as to share a morsel of that simply delicious looking baked delicacy that you appear to be consuming with some gusto?")
It was some homemade banana and chocolate loaf that had been made by Em. Henry did not have chocolate until his first birthday. So I picked out all the visible chunks of chocolate and lobbed a mouthful of cake at him. Again, perhaps with a little more enthusiasm that many would have deemed necessary but I was enjoying it and had been looking forward to finishing it!
There really is a difference in what becomes acceptable for the second child. Toby has been exposed to television (we didn't even own one until Henry was two), to some questionable dietary choices (I still feel a bit guilty about the pizza), to hand-me-downs, to Henry (a thoroughly adoring but somewhat exuberant big brother) and to loud music (he now regularly falls asleep in the middle of our bed to whichever awful pop-playlist Em is tidying up to).
I do wonder if we are going to make it until May before we sell our souls completely and stick him in a chocolate fountain. And whether or not I should just stick some whisky in his beaker and get a good night's sleep.
Friday, 12 January 2018
A Christmas tail
I came to the realisation this year that I think the Christmas tail was now wagging the dog. I no longer feel in control of Christmas. Budgeting is a dim and distant memory; not it is an orgy of excess and some 'responsibility-driven' purchasing.
"Oh we must buy for Aunt Fanny because she will get something for us."
No, no, no, NO!!!
This has to stop and I have made it my resolution this year to not be controlled by the feeling that we need to buy for others.
We have a set of friends that we have an annual Christmas tradition of going on one of the steam trains to see Father Christmas. I would much rather have an agreement with my friends to do no presents, but instead to create a memory, have an experience.
I have begun to talk about this with some of our friends and so far received universal agreement. Children seem to get overwhelmed by all the presents they receive these days, and the day can become about opening presents rather than the gift itself. It takes a lot of work as a parent to restrain a child's exuberance and connect them with the fact somebody has taken the time to get them something.
Inevitably, and through nothing but the best of intentions from friends and family, you are left with a pile of gifts that are not wanted. Appreciated but not wanted. They might not fit, or might not last, or simply might not be to somebody's taste. There is no criticism it is just the way of the world. I do not want any of my friends to feel they have wasted their money, in the same way that I do not want them feeling like they have to make use of whatever it is we have got them or their children.
So next year I am hoping for a slimmed down Christmas. It is a cliche but one that I think is particularly important to hold on to:
Rather than presents from people, I want their presence in creating memories together.
Henry will have fewer presents, but hopefully will be able to appreciate them more. I certainly do not want his idea of Christmas to be one that is represented by a sea of presents.
Wish me luck.
"Oh we must buy for Aunt Fanny because she will get something for us."
No, no, no, NO!!!
This has to stop and I have made it my resolution this year to not be controlled by the feeling that we need to buy for others.
We have a set of friends that we have an annual Christmas tradition of going on one of the steam trains to see Father Christmas. I would much rather have an agreement with my friends to do no presents, but instead to create a memory, have an experience.
I have begun to talk about this with some of our friends and so far received universal agreement. Children seem to get overwhelmed by all the presents they receive these days, and the day can become about opening presents rather than the gift itself. It takes a lot of work as a parent to restrain a child's exuberance and connect them with the fact somebody has taken the time to get them something.
Inevitably, and through nothing but the best of intentions from friends and family, you are left with a pile of gifts that are not wanted. Appreciated but not wanted. They might not fit, or might not last, or simply might not be to somebody's taste. There is no criticism it is just the way of the world. I do not want any of my friends to feel they have wasted their money, in the same way that I do not want them feeling like they have to make use of whatever it is we have got them or their children.
So next year I am hoping for a slimmed down Christmas. It is a cliche but one that I think is particularly important to hold on to:
Rather than presents from people, I want their presence in creating memories together.
Henry will have fewer presents, but hopefully will be able to appreciate them more. I certainly do not want his idea of Christmas to be one that is represented by a sea of presents.
Wish me luck.
Wednesday, 4 November 2015
Tantrums and tears
Picture the scene.
A father is carrying a screaming child who he has wrapped up in front of him from one end of the gardens to the car park. The child is crying out that the father is hurting him; it appears to be a firm but non-restrictive hold.
Some passers-by wince.
"That would never be our child" thinks a father. "Ah...wait. This is my child. I am that parent. Bugger."
I thought we had some tantrums during the terrible twos and I entered Henry's threes with a certain air of smugness.
"Yeah, he's had some tantrums, but nothing too bad."
Smug sod. I hate past-me.
Henry has very clearly been demonstrating that we are not in control and we are nothing like as good at this parenting thing as we thought we were. He has demonstrated some real barnstormers in the last two months. On two occasions I have worried that the incident might end in pea soup.
And here is the really difficult part to accept as a parent. No matter how patient you might be, how good your distractions might be, how much you ignore and how focussed you are on the good - three year olds get tired. And they cannot be controlled.
Nobody can be controlled, except yourself. You can attempt to create conditions that give the illusion of control, but really all you are hoping and praying for is that the child makes the choice you want to. And in this period of development, sometimes, he or she just thinks:
"To hell with what you want. I am an individual! A small, tired, incredibly vocal individual! Hear my roar!"
And all that is left for you as a parent is to weather the storm and pick up the sobbing pieces afterwards. Because once the storm has blown itself out you are left with a very vulnerable, upset little boy that doesn't really understand what just happened and needs reassurance that everything is ok in the world. It would be so easy to get caught in a vicious cycle where each other's frustration feeds and adds to the other's. The trick to parenting is securing their world and putting aside, for the moment, everything that was triggered in you - the lack of control, the frustration, the guilt and, I will admit it, the anger, and get back to being what your little boy needs you to be.
It is so very difficult, but so very important. Acknowledging we are human is not something we do often enough as parents. Emily and I are very lucky to have each other, close family and friends with children of a similar age that we can share stories with, offload and seek advice without fear of judgement. I dread to think what it would be like without them and I appreciate them every day.
A father is carrying a screaming child who he has wrapped up in front of him from one end of the gardens to the car park. The child is crying out that the father is hurting him; it appears to be a firm but non-restrictive hold.
Some passers-by wince.
"That would never be our child" thinks a father. "Ah...wait. This is my child. I am that parent. Bugger."
I thought we had some tantrums during the terrible twos and I entered Henry's threes with a certain air of smugness.
"Yeah, he's had some tantrums, but nothing too bad."
Smug sod. I hate past-me.
Henry has very clearly been demonstrating that we are not in control and we are nothing like as good at this parenting thing as we thought we were. He has demonstrated some real barnstormers in the last two months. On two occasions I have worried that the incident might end in pea soup.
And here is the really difficult part to accept as a parent. No matter how patient you might be, how good your distractions might be, how much you ignore and how focussed you are on the good - three year olds get tired. And they cannot be controlled.
Nobody can be controlled, except yourself. You can attempt to create conditions that give the illusion of control, but really all you are hoping and praying for is that the child makes the choice you want to. And in this period of development, sometimes, he or she just thinks:
"To hell with what you want. I am an individual! A small, tired, incredibly vocal individual! Hear my roar!"
And all that is left for you as a parent is to weather the storm and pick up the sobbing pieces afterwards. Because once the storm has blown itself out you are left with a very vulnerable, upset little boy that doesn't really understand what just happened and needs reassurance that everything is ok in the world. It would be so easy to get caught in a vicious cycle where each other's frustration feeds and adds to the other's. The trick to parenting is securing their world and putting aside, for the moment, everything that was triggered in you - the lack of control, the frustration, the guilt and, I will admit it, the anger, and get back to being what your little boy needs you to be.
It is so very difficult, but so very important. Acknowledging we are human is not something we do often enough as parents. Emily and I are very lucky to have each other, close family and friends with children of a similar age that we can share stories with, offload and seek advice without fear of judgement. I dread to think what it would be like without them and I appreciate them every day.
Friday, 21 August 2015
Me and fatherhood
I think my last post started with a lament about how long it has been since I posted, and this one (over a year later) can only begin in the same manner.
The problem I have found recently is how easy it is to let life just carry you through as a passenger without any sense of steering. The loss of my father nearly four years ago has played heavily on my mind in this intervening time and I realised around six months ago that it had begun to affect my relationship with Henry. You could use the label depression; a GP has with me and I am now seeing a counsellor. I am not particularly interested in labels, more trying to understand why certain choices are made and how these seem relevant or appropriate.
I hold a firm belief that children are the product of their parents, and while nature plays a role nurture is considerably more powerful. If a child is causing problems, I would argue, you need to check for whom the behaviour is a problem, why the behaviour is occurring and what in their environment is causing it. As a result, when Henry started to behave in a way that was a problem for me I realised I could not blame him; I had to look closely at myself.
This coincided for me, fortunately, with a course on mindfulness. I would heartily recommend this approach. It has not changed me dramatically, but it has made enough change to help me correct my course and get back to parenting Henry in a manner that I believe is more positive and healthy.
It is so easy to place blame elsewhere, to talk about how others affect you and the reason for bad outcomes is not within your control. I am currently on a journey that is teaching me that I am responsible for what happens in those around me, and this includes Henry. My parenting problems are not 'solved' (will they ever be?) by any stretch of the imagination. A recent camping trip and a reluctant sleeper tested my resolve greatly! But I am certainly feeling more in control. And when things go badly, or well, I know again where to look.
This has been a bit of an introspective post, one that focuses more on me than Henry, but I will not apologise for that. A significant part of me and fatherhood is, indeed, me. And I believe it is important to remember that both in a critically reflective way, how am I affecting the situation around me, and with mindfulness and kindness, forgiving myself when I get it wrong.
The problem I have found recently is how easy it is to let life just carry you through as a passenger without any sense of steering. The loss of my father nearly four years ago has played heavily on my mind in this intervening time and I realised around six months ago that it had begun to affect my relationship with Henry. You could use the label depression; a GP has with me and I am now seeing a counsellor. I am not particularly interested in labels, more trying to understand why certain choices are made and how these seem relevant or appropriate.
I hold a firm belief that children are the product of their parents, and while nature plays a role nurture is considerably more powerful. If a child is causing problems, I would argue, you need to check for whom the behaviour is a problem, why the behaviour is occurring and what in their environment is causing it. As a result, when Henry started to behave in a way that was a problem for me I realised I could not blame him; I had to look closely at myself.
This coincided for me, fortunately, with a course on mindfulness. I would heartily recommend this approach. It has not changed me dramatically, but it has made enough change to help me correct my course and get back to parenting Henry in a manner that I believe is more positive and healthy.
It is so easy to place blame elsewhere, to talk about how others affect you and the reason for bad outcomes is not within your control. I am currently on a journey that is teaching me that I am responsible for what happens in those around me, and this includes Henry. My parenting problems are not 'solved' (will they ever be?) by any stretch of the imagination. A recent camping trip and a reluctant sleeper tested my resolve greatly! But I am certainly feeling more in control. And when things go badly, or well, I know again where to look.
This has been a bit of an introspective post, one that focuses more on me than Henry, but I will not apologise for that. A significant part of me and fatherhood is, indeed, me. And I believe it is important to remember that both in a critically reflective way, how am I affecting the situation around me, and with mindfulness and kindness, forgiving myself when I get it wrong.
Thursday, 1 May 2014
Happiness
Dear
Henry,
You
are a little young for this letter right now, but I hope in time it
will become more meaningful to you. I originally wrote a letter very similar to this one for Naomi's naming day as a present, but as I was writing it I realised how much I wanted you to understand the lessons within it.
I hope that by the time you read this you understand a little more about your dad and what I do for a living. I
am a psychologist so I am interested, simply, in how people
think and feel and behave. I also believe these three things
influence each other. This is important and I will come back
to it.
What
I am not, is a particularly practical man - you will have realised this by now as every time something goes wrong we call Steve, Jamie or Granddad! When Steve and Sarah asked for something personal for Naomi the best that I could come up with was ...happiness.
I
need you to pay special attention now. Are you listening?
Sitting comfortably? No other distractions? Good.
Then I will carry on.
Happiness
is not something that just happens. We are not passive
recipients of some floating cloud that rains good emotion down upon
us. The Dalai Lama (very cool guy, look him up) has said that:
"Happiness
is not something ready made. It comes from your own actions."
We
need to work at it and we need to use it. If you do not it
withers away and becomes harder to find. If this happens you
are less likely to feel good about life. So my gift to Naomi, and now to you, is a collection of pointers on how you can ensure your own happiness as you grow and
move through life.
I
have another couple of important points that I need you to
understand before I get to what I consider to be the practical bits.
Firstly,
happiness is not about stuff. It is not about possessions.
The positive emotion that can be found in things is, generally,
fleeting and unsatisfying. Secondly, happiness is made better
by making other people happy. If you do good, you will feel
good. This is something your parents do very well, although I
am never entirely sure if they realise, or give themselves credit
for, how good they are at it. Watch them and learn from them.
Make people feel special and you become special and feel special.
Simple sounding, isn't it?
So
this is what I would like you to do, to help you stay happy and
healthy in life.
- Do things for people, connect with them, pay them attention. If you value others, you will in turn be valued. Remember how important people are and respect them for their own humanity, not because of what they can do for you. Something you can do for yourself is to...
- Exercise. This may be a cliché, but it really is the most powerful way to feel good about yourself. And while I am on the subject of feeling good about yourself...
- Accept who you are. Do not chase others' ideas of who they think you should be. It is your skin and you need to live in it, so accept it and be happy with it. You will not be getting another one! So don't worry about it and...
- Try whenever possible to live in the moment. Appreciate the things around you, the sounds, the sights, the smells, the touch, the taste. Life is about experiences, a person is the sum of what they have seen and done, so appreciate them. Strive to make those experiences positive and fulfilling. To do this you will need to...
- Keep learning. We never stop growing as people. If you allow yourself to stop, you stagnate. Keep yourself occupied and trying new things and never be afraid to say "I don't understand". To do this you will need to...
- Stay positive. Optimism is one of the most powerful pieces of psychological armour you can possess. You will experience setbacks, downs and lows. But remember that is all they are and it is within your power to change things. So much of life is based on how we interpret it. Choose to interpret it positively and this will help to...
- Ensure your life has meaning. Look to involve yourself in something bigger than your own small world. We are tiny specks in the sea of human experience, but enough of those specks together can move worlds and change lives.
I
hope by now you have realised how important I believe attitude and
the things that we choose to do are in helping us to live happy
lives. What I cannot do in this letter is tell you all the
ways you can do this. If I am honest, I hope you don't need this letter as I plan on being around long enough to teach you these lessons myself, but you never know do you? And at least if it is here, I know something will be passed on to you. Something that I continue to need to remind myself is to treasure the good times. This can be difficult when you are tired, and stressed, and in need of space - but it is those times when it matters the most. If you find yourself slipping, stop. Look around. There are some many beautiful sights to behold if we just take the time to look.
I would like to leave you some lifework. Start to write down the
things that make you feel grateful, proud or happy. Don't be
afraid to think big (I live in a safe democracy) or small (I had an
awesome meal today!), but do think and do record them. This
act alone will go a long way to keeping you happy.
I
hope you come to enjoy, understand and appreciate this gift.
But, more than that, I hope that with or without this letter you
lead a happy and fulfilled life my son.
With all
my love, my precious boy
Dad
Friday, 18 April 2014
Henry - this isn't space, everybody can hear you scream
We are going through quite a special stage with Henry. High pitched, ear piercing, glass shattering screaming. Seemingly out of the blue, without warning Henry will let rip with a banshee cry.
Why?!
I have no idea what purpose it serves, I have not found a strategy to prevent him from doing it, a stern word sometimes stops it being instantly repeated but not always. We cannot work out what it's about, or what to do about it.
Other parents have told us their children went through this stage, but I can honestly say I have never heard a child like him in the past. Generally, he is noisty and loud and the sound is one of excited, happy amazement. This feels like it has evolved simply to push our buttons. And, perhaps, therein lies the solution? Yet, ignoring it does not make it go away
This may sound relatively minor but that is only because you are reading this and not hearing that. It has got to a point, recently, where Emily would not come to dinner in a hotel because people seemed to move away from us. Now, I am fairly robust as a person and parent, but that really does make you wish you were not there when people move away!
This seems just an opportunity to offload - unless anybody has a suggestion? All would be gratefully received!
Why?!
I have no idea what purpose it serves, I have not found a strategy to prevent him from doing it, a stern word sometimes stops it being instantly repeated but not always. We cannot work out what it's about, or what to do about it.
Other parents have told us their children went through this stage, but I can honestly say I have never heard a child like him in the past. Generally, he is noisty and loud and the sound is one of excited, happy amazement. This feels like it has evolved simply to push our buttons. And, perhaps, therein lies the solution? Yet, ignoring it does not make it go away
This may sound relatively minor but that is only because you are reading this and not hearing that. It has got to a point, recently, where Emily would not come to dinner in a hotel because people seemed to move away from us. Now, I am fairly robust as a person and parent, but that really does make you wish you were not there when people move away!
This seems just an opportunity to offload - unless anybody has a suggestion? All would be gratefully received!
Tuesday, 18 December 2012
Everything hurts (I mean changes)
I have just returned from my work Christmas night out. A meal and some drinks. How lovely and inoffensive.
Or is it? I'm a teensiest bit drunk. I had no intention of this, but largely due to an administrative balls-up a pile of free wine arrived.
This means a drunk daddy. Not good.
People wanted to see Henry. I don't blame them, he's awesome! But I invited people for a lift. Mistake 1.
I then tried to calm him using standard dad tricks. Mistake 2.
I then offered a lift home to a friend. Mistake 3.
All in all...nice one dadhead.
But...I am home because of him, because gaining friendships paled into significance next to him. Drinking is attractive. He is more so. Life has changed, I'm playing catch up, but I will never stop running for him.
Night.
Or is it? I'm a teensiest bit drunk. I had no intention of this, but largely due to an administrative balls-up a pile of free wine arrived.
This means a drunk daddy. Not good.
People wanted to see Henry. I don't blame them, he's awesome! But I invited people for a lift. Mistake 1.
I then tried to calm him using standard dad tricks. Mistake 2.
I then offered a lift home to a friend. Mistake 3.
All in all...nice one dadhead.
But...I am home because of him, because gaining friendships paled into significance next to him. Drinking is attractive. He is more so. Life has changed, I'm playing catch up, but I will never stop running for him.
Night.
Sunday, 16 December 2012
Teething and late nights
So it's 12:30 on a Saturday night and I have just spent the last half hour trying to convince Henry that going back to sleep is the right choice to make. I failed. At times like this there is only one thing that works - cue supermummy with her breasts of nectar.
I am making light of this because the alternative is despair. This has been going on for weeks now, and if the usual pattern is to be expected we will be up another two times between now and when we get up with him between 7 and 8am. It is exhausting, frustrating and stressful. After failing in my endeavours I came back to bed realising I felt targeted by him, that he wasn't helpless and somehow he was choosing to do this to me. Obviously he isn't and the rational part of my mind was telling me to stop being such a pillock, but for a couple of minutes the irrational side was on top.
"Why won't he sleep? Why is he doing this to us?"
led to:
"What are we doing that is so wrong?"
Maybe we are doing something wrong. We are responsive parents, rarely leave him to cry for long. Perhaps this is a rod for our own backs, but it doesn't even feel like a choice as the alternative is inconceivable to us.
The likely culprit is a tooth. Or possibly teeth, we are not sure yet. But it leaves me worrying - he has a whole mouthful of piano keys yet to sprout, how long is it going to be like this?
Unfortunately, for us, only time will tell.
I am making light of this because the alternative is despair. This has been going on for weeks now, and if the usual pattern is to be expected we will be up another two times between now and when we get up with him between 7 and 8am. It is exhausting, frustrating and stressful. After failing in my endeavours I came back to bed realising I felt targeted by him, that he wasn't helpless and somehow he was choosing to do this to me. Obviously he isn't and the rational part of my mind was telling me to stop being such a pillock, but for a couple of minutes the irrational side was on top.
"Why won't he sleep? Why is he doing this to us?"
led to:
"What are we doing that is so wrong?"
Maybe we are doing something wrong. We are responsive parents, rarely leave him to cry for long. Perhaps this is a rod for our own backs, but it doesn't even feel like a choice as the alternative is inconceivable to us.
The likely culprit is a tooth. Or possibly teeth, we are not sure yet. But it leaves me worrying - he has a whole mouthful of piano keys yet to sprout, how long is it going to be like this?
Unfortunately, for us, only time will tell.
Monday, 10 December 2012
All I want for Christmas are my two front teeth
Time marches on. Our last two weeks have been amongst the hardest since Henry was born. And today, the culprit, emerged from his gums like some ivory flag, proudly marking the reason for all the upset. Henry has not had a good time of it cutting his first tooth, and for the last weeks has had regular doses of ibuprofen, paracetomol and Bonjela. His appetite has been affected, sleep cycle and general happiness (we are very lucky and he is normally a cheerful wee soul). But perhaps now he can rest a bit? We hope so, because a tired, cranky Henry leads to two very tired parents. Again and again I reminded of how difficult this would be if I didn't even have a partner to share the burden with. Single parenting is not an easy choice I imagine. If, of course, it is ever a choice.
And what else has changed in life in recent times? Stinkpig is now independently mobile. That's right adults, lock up anything you don't want chewed, slapped, pulled or slobbered on because it is now likely to be within his reach. And if it is not within his reach? Why, he will just stand up and attempt to bring it within his reach! Henry is now crawling, and is on the verge of walking as he shuffles round various pieces of furniture.
This has led to new highs of parental guilt. I challenge anybody living in an everyday home, looking after a newly moving child to protect them from knocks, bangs and scrapes. In the last week, and only with me, he has:
"Oooooo...a tall thing. I wonder what tastes like that?"
BANG!
"Owwwwwwwww - where are those people that supply the food and the wet wipes? Ah, there they are...I have hurt myself, I feel like cryin...why are you laughing? Why is that funny? Why are you bouncing me up and down? I've just banged my head, I don't feel like dancing. Actually, this is quite fun...more, more! Oooooo...what's that tall thing?"
If you have a newly crawling child - good luck. Life is about to get interesting*.
(* for interesting read a terrifyingly stark reminder of how incapable you are of not only keeping a tiny baby safe but also how untterly incompetent you are at predicting, in a home that you have likely lived in for years, what will be of interest and pose a risk to said infant.)
And what else has changed in life in recent times? Stinkpig is now independently mobile. That's right adults, lock up anything you don't want chewed, slapped, pulled or slobbered on because it is now likely to be within his reach. And if it is not within his reach? Why, he will just stand up and attempt to bring it within his reach! Henry is now crawling, and is on the verge of walking as he shuffles round various pieces of furniture.
This has led to new highs of parental guilt. I challenge anybody living in an everyday home, looking after a newly moving child to protect them from knocks, bangs and scrapes. In the last week, and only with me, he has:
- had a lump under his eye where he slipped in the bath (he even bloody crawls in that), banged his head off the side and slipped momentarily under the water. I have never moved so quick, very nearly cracking ribs in the process of pulling him out of the water.
- pulled a pan rack, complete with pans, down. It was only by sheer luck that it bounced beside him rather than on him.
- within the space of two minutes slipped three times on the kitchen floor and banged his head.
- slipped pulling himself the kitchen cupboard resulted in another banged head.
- trapped his hand under the pan while his other hand pushes down on it to lever himself into a standing position.
- pulled a cola bottle over onto his hand.
- pulled the bin down on top of himself.
"Oooooo...a tall thing. I wonder what tastes like that?"
BANG!
"Owwwwwwwww - where are those people that supply the food and the wet wipes? Ah, there they are...I have hurt myself, I feel like cryin...why are you laughing? Why is that funny? Why are you bouncing me up and down? I've just banged my head, I don't feel like dancing. Actually, this is quite fun...more, more! Oooooo...what's that tall thing?"
If you have a newly crawling child - good luck. Life is about to get interesting*.
(* for interesting read a terrifyingly stark reminder of how incapable you are of not only keeping a tiny baby safe but also how untterly incompetent you are at predicting, in a home that you have likely lived in for years, what will be of interest and pose a risk to said infant.)
Tuesday, 31 July 2012
Challenges
I've been talking a lot recently about the role of the father and the challenges we face with various people. Henry is now at a point where, on occasion, only mummy will do. He can become rapidly inconsolable by anything apart from a cuddle with Emily. This can be particularly difficult for the hands-on dad, like I am trying to be. When you want to be a part of the parenting and do your very best to meet your child's needs it can be quite an emotional challenge to recognise those times when you're not enough. And clearly Henry isn't doing this to hurt, the mother baby bond is vital and well-documented. And a generation or so ago this wouldn't have been an issue, there was less expectation, I think, on dads to be active parents. The hands-on dad was the exception, not the norm.
However, times have changed and people do expect more of dads - although I think I pressure myself more than society expects of me. This is what leads to the difficulty. I want to be able to do it, but sometimes I am just not what he wants. I can imagine at this stage it is tricky for dads to maintain the involvement, it can be difficult to continue when you feel you're having to hand over to mummy each time. I am fortunate that I've got a chunk of time off work now and can be about a lot more and strengthen the relationship. For dads that don't have that opportunity it must be very tough and I would question what support, or consideration, they get. My mum talked about my dad, who was an exception but also was in the navy so had to be away for long periods, and how she hadn't considered what it would have been like coming back from months away to a child that wanted mummy. I cannot imagine how difficult that would have been - I am sure all he wanted was hugs and smiles and to not put me down, yet I imagine I had other ideas when young.
The importance of the relationship both parents have with a child is important, and I think preparing dads for these trials would be beneficial.
However, times have changed and people do expect more of dads - although I think I pressure myself more than society expects of me. This is what leads to the difficulty. I want to be able to do it, but sometimes I am just not what he wants. I can imagine at this stage it is tricky for dads to maintain the involvement, it can be difficult to continue when you feel you're having to hand over to mummy each time. I am fortunate that I've got a chunk of time off work now and can be about a lot more and strengthen the relationship. For dads that don't have that opportunity it must be very tough and I would question what support, or consideration, they get. My mum talked about my dad, who was an exception but also was in the navy so had to be away for long periods, and how she hadn't considered what it would have been like coming back from months away to a child that wanted mummy. I cannot imagine how difficult that would have been - I am sure all he wanted was hugs and smiles and to not put me down, yet I imagine I had other ideas when young.
The importance of the relationship both parents have with a child is important, and I think preparing dads for these trials would be beneficial.
Monday, 16 July 2012
Oh, they grow up so fast!
Henry is at an amazing stage. He smiles, beginning to have good head control, and, amazingly, babbles away in full conversations with us. We get to kiss him all over and have bath times with him. If he gets crabby he goes up onto a shoulder (although this has resulted in a number of top changes) and gets taken for a walk - around the garden is a sure fire calmer for all but the most serious of ailments.
I was standing in the shower this morning thinking about all of this and worrying, again, about him growing up and only getting to experience those moments in my memories.
It actually offered me some insight into why people, even in these modern times, have large families. These days are so precious with Henry, dependent on us and attachments emerging. I am tremendously excited about all that is to come, but these few months where a silly noise is enough to get a smile (and I will do ANYTHING for one of his smiles), a kiss is enough to get a giggle, he looks for you as you leave and is fascinated by his own hands, are so short. When he is a bit older, moving around and talking I know I will miss these days. I'm fairly sure I will feel like this at every stage of his life. But there does seem to be something particularly precious about these first few months.
A biological imperative? Probably. Do I care if it is? Certainly not! My little boy is waiting for a silly voice and a kiss on the lips - there are more important things to be worried about!
I was standing in the shower this morning thinking about all of this and worrying, again, about him growing up and only getting to experience those moments in my memories.
It actually offered me some insight into why people, even in these modern times, have large families. These days are so precious with Henry, dependent on us and attachments emerging. I am tremendously excited about all that is to come, but these few months where a silly noise is enough to get a smile (and I will do ANYTHING for one of his smiles), a kiss is enough to get a giggle, he looks for you as you leave and is fascinated by his own hands, are so short. When he is a bit older, moving around and talking I know I will miss these days. I'm fairly sure I will feel like this at every stage of his life. But there does seem to be something particularly precious about these first few months.
A biological imperative? Probably. Do I care if it is? Certainly not! My little boy is waiting for a silly voice and a kiss on the lips - there are more important things to be worried about!
Wednesday, 6 June 2012
Respect and hardwork
Young single parents catch a lot of flack in our media, which results in a public rejection of them. My personal opinion is that we should, as a society, criticise ourselves slightly more than the products of a systemic issue. These young people have suffered, generally, a generational lack of aspiration and becoming a parent is all they know.
However, that is not what I want to focus on. Rather I respect anybody that attempts to raise a child by themselves. I cannot imagine bringing Henry up without the support of my wife; I think she would echo the sentiment. It is such hard work. I admire my wife greatly for getting through the day independently. Getting through life independently would be inconceivable.
We have some friends who need to care for their children (plural!) by themselves frequently and frankly Emily and I are amazed by them. We have one child, we are always late and it is a mission that requires a level of planning that would impress special forces to get out of the house. How these (bionic) friends of ours manage is beyond me. My hope it is like driving. At first you cannot imagine how you can lift the clutch pedal, whilst pushing down on the throttle and simultaneously checking your mirrors. It becomes natural and sub-conscious but at first it feels clumsy, awkward and you always forget to take the handbrake off.
So rather than denigrate single parents we should recognising what hard work it is - it is probably much harder than they realised, so let us not add insult to injury through generalisations and criticisms.
However, that is not what I want to focus on. Rather I respect anybody that attempts to raise a child by themselves. I cannot imagine bringing Henry up without the support of my wife; I think she would echo the sentiment. It is such hard work. I admire my wife greatly for getting through the day independently. Getting through life independently would be inconceivable.
We have some friends who need to care for their children (plural!) by themselves frequently and frankly Emily and I are amazed by them. We have one child, we are always late and it is a mission that requires a level of planning that would impress special forces to get out of the house. How these (bionic) friends of ours manage is beyond me. My hope it is like driving. At first you cannot imagine how you can lift the clutch pedal, whilst pushing down on the throttle and simultaneously checking your mirrors. It becomes natural and sub-conscious but at first it feels clumsy, awkward and you always forget to take the handbrake off.
So rather than denigrate single parents we should recognising what hard work it is - it is probably much harder than they realised, so let us not add insult to injury through generalisations and criticisms.
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