Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Colenso, Comment, Culture, Daddyhood, Emotion, England, Family, Fatherhood, Goodbye England, Home, Jill, Love, My Fatherhood, New Zealand, Otis, Parents, Paul, Shelly
So today is the 1st Feb.
That means today is the first day of our final month living in England.
Or at least living in England for a period of time.
We will be back for a whole host of reasons, we just don’t know when.
And while I’ll be writing another long, drawn out post listing all the things I’ll miss and all the things I’m grateful for … the reality is there’s a chance COVID will fuck our plans and instead of boarding a plane to New Zealand on the 3rd March, we’ll be in our beautiful home, trying to work out how to get our furniture off a boat and our cat out of quarantine.
It’s a strange feeling to think you have a time limit on what you have come to consider ‘home’.
A mixture of fear and excitement.
Of course we have done it a ton of times – and we’re really thrilled to be off on another adventure – but there’s a bunch of things that have got their teeth into us.
Being near Paul and Shelly after 25 years is a huge one.
Our beautiful new home with our beautiful garden is another.
Not to mention the wonderful new friends we’ve made in the time we’ve been back.
But as I say to many people who ask me about moving overseas, while it is easy to focus on the things you’ll miss, you need to focus on the things you’ll gain.
And we can’t wait for that.
The things we know, the things we hope for and the things that will just crash into our life.
I owe so much of my life to having lived around the World and I’m very excited to discover what new chapters this adventure will write.
So as this is a month where a lot will be going on, this blog will end on Friday till we are either in NZ or being told we have to wait longer to get into NZ.
Though whatever is the outcome, while not hearing my rubbish on here for a few weeks sounds like a delight, let me remind you – when I’m in quarantine in NZ with literally nothing to do, there’s a good chance I may be writing 100 blog posts a day.
So be careful what you wish for.
Filed under: Childhood, Dad, Daddyhood, Family, Fatherhood, Jill, Love, My Fatherhood, Otis, Parents
My dearest Otis.
I loved you before I even met you.
I love you more than you will ever comprehend.
And while you can get a teensy-bit exasperated with me, when I tell you that every single day, the fact remains I will continue to tell you. Every single day.
I can't help it.
I couldn't stop even if I tried.
But I don't want to try, I love every single thing about you.
Your kindness. Your cheekiness. Your ideas. Your laughter. Your mischief. Your curiosity. Your heart. Your emotions. Your love.
It’s breath taking for me to see and I am so proud of the boy you are and the boy you will be.
Actually it’s more than that.
I’m proud I’m your dad, full-stop.
So to my wonderful boy, happy 6th birthday.
I know it is a strange one this year with all that has happened in the past months, but I want you to know that spending so much time with you has been one of the greatest experiences in my whole life.
Keep being exactly as you are.
To your Mum and me, you are perfect.
Love you,
Rx
Filed under: America, China, Comment, Dad, Daddyhood, Emotion, Empathy, England, Family, Fatherhood, Jill, LaLaLand, London, Love, Mum & Dad, My Fatherhood, Otis, Parents
In many ways, this was a big year for Otis.
While he had moved from Shanghai to Los Angeles, he was so young that he probably didn’t take it all in.
But by the time we left Los Angeles for London, he had made some deep connections.
His friend Jack.
His love Elodie.
His school mates and adventurous life in the sun.
And yet he took it all in his stride.
Sad to say goodbye, but happy to explore somewhere new, boosted by the fact he would get to see his ‘Oddparents’ – Paul and Shelly – a lot more often.
And within days, he was a Londoner.
Sure he had a strange American accent.
Sure he kept talk about dollars rather than pounds.
But for all the upheaval he was going through, he embraced it all.
New home.
New school.
New friends.
New way of living.
It was here he started to identify what he loved.
We wanted him to experience a range of things so he could discover what he liked.
And while he liked being a ‘ninja’, he didn’t want to do martial arts.
And while he enjoyed watching football with his dad, he didn’t like organised sport.
Instead he loved acting.
LOVED IT.
Watching him practice his lines was a bloody delight … the focus, the commitment.
And while he would get a bit shy at the point of performance, you could see how much his whole being lit up when he was doing it.
I have no idea if he will continue to love acting or performance.
Right now, he’s into video games in a big way.
But whatever path he chooses in the future … as much as I don’t want him to have a life of struggle, the thing I want most for him is fulfilment.
Not comfort.
Not content.
But fulfilment … as my parents always drilled into me.
To be honest, I didn’t really understood the difference between fulfilment and contentment till I was in my 30’s. But now I realise it has a totally different imputes when you go from the ‘receiver’ of that intent to the ‘giver’.
I hope I can help Otis understand it.
But more than that, I hope I can witness Otis embracing it.
Filed under: Dad, Daddyhood, Family, Fatherhood, Jill, Love, Mum & Dad, My Fatherhood, Otis, Parents
So as I wrote yesterday, this week is dedicated to Otis because on Friday, he turns 6.
This post is all around this photo.
This was the moment Otis was handed to his Mum after his operation.
We had flown to Australia for this treatment because even though we lived in Shanghai – we were told there was a hospital in Sydney that specialised in the procedure he needed.
We had flown in a couple of days before so he could see his Gran and cousin and all he knew was he was having a whale of a time. This was good as we wanted that more than anything.
The night before he was being admitted, the hospital told us he should not eat and we should try to keep him awake as late as possible. While the evening went well with time spent at the park near our place in Balmain …
… things quickly took a turn for the worse when we had to deny him food.
While we knew it was for his own good, it was so hard – especially as he didn’t take it very well – and it made Jill and I even more anxious than we were already.
We didn’t sleep the whole night and were grateful when 6am rolled by as it meant that was the time we could leave our hotel in the City and drive him to the hospital.
Fortunately Otis was so exhausted he was asleep for the entire journey and that removed some of the tension that was in the air.
The check-in was fine and the doctors told us what they were going to do and then they asked if we could help them administer the general anaesthetic. In essence, they wanted one of us there so Otis would feel calm as they placed a mask over his face.
I couldn’t do it …
I wish I could, but the whole thing triggered the experience I had with Mum a year earlier when she had the operation that so sadly failed, so instead, my wonderful, beautiful, compassionate Jill went in.
She came back very upset and I remember being so worried, but she told me it was all fine – it was just the sight of seeing our son be put to sleep that had deeply affected her.
I can’t imagine how hard that must have been.
To put your child in a position where they are intentionally losing consciousness must be against every instinct a parent can have.
We then spent the next couple of hours trying to be calm while secretly shitting ourselves. Of course, compared to many parents – what we were going through was nothing. When I think back to all the challenges Andy and Maria had to deal with, with Bonnie, I feel embarrassed to admit how worried we were … but we were so you can imagine the relief we felt when Otis was brought back in and placed in his loving mum’s open arms.
Everything was fine.
The operation had been a success.
But nothing made me feel so at peace as when he was back in his Mum’s arms – watching the 2 people I love the most in the World be together. Providing each other with the comfort and love they needed to feel from each other.
I still love that photo, even though it commemorates a time that was very worrying for us.
It kind-of reminds me of the very first time Jill saw Otis.
He’d just been born in the hospital in Shanghai and the way she said, “Oh hello … you’re so beautiful”, when he was placed on her chest is burned in my mind.
Here she was, meeting the wonderful kid she’d been carrying around inside her for 9 months.
A child we had so dearly wanted.
It’s one of the greatest moments of my life and this photo reminds me of it.
The way she looks at him.
Wanting to see him while protecting him.
An instantaneous wave of the most intense love.
A calm voice to soothe him after his adventure.
The beginning of the next.
I always knew a child was a wonderful thing. I have always wanted them – I just wasn’t ready. And while I don’t regret that, I can say the experience is bigger and better than I ever imagined.
And while I am sure most parents feel this way about their kid.
This one is mine.
This is my Otis.
While I appreciate he hasn’t gone through as many challenges as other kids out there, he has faced his own version of them. Less medical and more emotional because his parents keep bloody moving country.
And while we were still living in Shanghai at that point, he gave me a big clue he was destined to take challenges in his stride, because 36 hours after the above photo was taken, he was at his grannies, like nothing had happened.
I love this kid more than I can ever properly convey.
Happy birthday for Friday son.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Advertising, Agency Culture, Attitude & Aptitude, Authenticity, Colenso, Comment, Confidence, Creativity, Culture, Dad, England, Family, Fatherhood, Friendship, Goodbye England, Home, Jill, London, Love, Mum, Mum & Dad, My Fatherhood, New Zealand, Otis, Paul, Perspective, Planning, R/GA, Shelly
So even though we are not leaving for NZ for a month, this is my last post for at least a month.
Moving countries always requires a bunch of things to be done, and despite us being old hands at it, doing it during a pandemic means we have a bunch more stuff to do – hence the blog post rest.
Being back in England has been a special time.
Part of it is because I never thought I would have lived here again.
Part of it is because I have been able to catch up with old friends once more.
Part of it is because I love big cities and always wanted to live in London.
Part of it is because despite its bullshit, it’s still my home and I’ve loved being in a place where so much of it just felt natural.
And part of it is because of the new friends I have met along the way.
To think I didn’t know people like Tanter, Nils, the beautifully irresponsible – in the most responsible way – Mike and Sam, the entire planning gang at R/GA [though Lachlan did remind me when I started that we had once met in Australia … when he was a student, hahahaha], Michael Roberts, Ben Major, Tarik at Onroad, Sam Clohesy, Ian Preston, Trudie, the inspirational [whether he accepts that or not] Murray Calder, Keerti, Munraj, Larissa Vince – who is a better Nottingham Forest than I could ever be, John, Nana at POCC, Asheru, Louise Jack, Eduardo, Sara Tate, Holly Day, Ally and everyone at Brixton Finishing School, Dorcas, Abi, the incredible Kay Adekunle Rufai from the S-M-I-L-E-ing Boys project, Nick Hirst, Tom Roach and countless other people from work or – shock, horror – Twitter [including one of my ad-icons, Trevor Beattie] … is astounding.
And while I am thrilled to be going to New Zealand for our next adventure, leaving England is much harder than I thought it would.
Without doubt, a big part of that is because as much as I’ve been away, it still feels like home.
Not just because we bought our beautiful house here, but because my beloved Paul and Shelly are here.
And while the pandemic meant we didn’t see each other as much as we would have liked, it’s more than I’d had in quarter of a century and I will treasure that as much as I treasure the fact Paul and I are still as stupid together, as we were when we were kids.
England is where I was raised.
And while I have sold the family home to buy our new family home … it doesn’t take away from the fact, so many of the things that made me who I am, were made here.
Of course I wish my Mum and Dad were still alive.
How I would have loved to have made them happy to be ‘home again’.
How I would have loved to have spent so much time chatting and remembering together.
But maybe it they were still alive we wouldn’t have gone to NZ and so it appears they are still encouraging me to explore, even without them here anymore.
Though I would happily swap it all for another day together, even though I am also happy they have not had to endure the hardship that COVID has placed on the country. I can’t imagine what it would be like for them to have to deal with it and I have nothing but admiration for any person trying to manage/balance that situation with their own family.
But we’re off … and frankly, the idea of going to New Zealand feels like one of the greatest gift in the World.
That we will soon be in a country where WE CAN GO OUT TO DINNER IN A RESTAURANT seems almost impossible.
That we will soon be in a country where Otis CAN PLAY OUTSIDE WITH HIS [NEW] FRIENDS WHENEVER HE WANTS is a dream.
That we will soon be able to go visit Jill’s Mum IN A MATTER OF HOURS is madness, given it’s been 17 years since she could do that.
And that I get to do this while working at one of my favourite companies in the World – the brilliant Colenso – is, frankly, insane.
I’m so excited for the adventures we’ll have.
The experiences we will discover and learn from.
Not to mention the work I will able to be a part of creating.
That said, I cannot thank all the brilliant people who have made my return to England so special, enough.
I will miss so much about here, but the memories will also last me through till our return.
And we will be back.
Don’t know where. Don’t know when.
But – not wishing to make it sound like a threat – I know we’ll meet again, some sunny day.
Take care of yourselves. Thank you for everything.
See you on the other side. Literally and metaphorically.