Filed under: Attitude & Aptitude, Comment, Dad, Daddyhood, Family, Food, Jill, Otis, Parents
I’ve written previously about the privilege it is to see my son experience things for the very first time in his life.
His first word.
His first food.
His first crawl.
His first plane trip.
His first time in the sea.
I cannot put into words how magical and amazing it feels.
The only downside being it is a constant reminder he is growing up in the blink of an eye.
Before I was a Dad, I used to listen to parents say that about their children and think ..
“It takes 18 years for your kid to grow up. 18 years is a bloody long time. Get over it”
… but now I am a father, I totally get what they mean.
Every day something new happens.
A new word.
A new experience.
A new interaction.
And you both relish it and hate it because it means they’re growing up. Developing. Moving towards a time where they will no longer be reliant on you … a time where you will no longer be the most important people in their World.
The best thing about technology is I can capture these things in perfect clarity.
Not just so I can embarrass Otis when he’s older – though that is pretty good too – but so I can remember the feeling or love and wonder I have every time I am given the honour of witnessing my son grow up right in front of my eyes.
Which leads to the point of this post.
Recently we gave Otis his first taste of ice cream.
A product he could neither quite grasp in terms of taste or how to eat it.
But he liked it … or at least the concept of it.
I won’t say anymore – I’ll let you see it for yourself – though wouldn’t it be great if we were all this happy about such simple pleasures.
God, I love that kid so, so much.
Have a great weekend.
I am writing this on the 18th May at 9:50pm.
Everyone in the house is asleep and I’ve spent the last 10 minutes watching them.
Transfixed by them.
My family.
Wife. Son. Cat.
Each one breathing in and out in their own unique rhythm, occasionally interrupting themselves with a sigh … a sniff … a cough.
And it strikes me how lucky I am to have all this.
Three beautiful individuals forever entwined in my life.
Three beautiful individuals who seem happy about this fact.
Yes, even Rosie the cat.
It’s amazing.
And I am suddenly overcome with the feeling that if my parents were to walk in on this scene of filial tranquility, they’d look at me and smile … and that smile would mean one thing.
You’ve done well son.
And I have.
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* Both of the photos in this post are old. I was going to take a new one but then I realised the moment the flash went off, this moment of domestic bliss would be replaced with a crying baby, a pissed off cat and a karate chop in the windpipe from the wife and I want this post to be something she can [one day] treasure, not bring up whenever she’s is angry at me.
Filed under: Comment, Daddyhood, Family, Fatherhood, Holiday, Otis, Parents
So today is the last day of work for a week before the Chinese New Year holiday.
I know … I know … I’ve just come back from my Christmas holiday, but this has been going on for 6 years so I don’t know why you’re surprised.
Last year, Chinese New Year was the start of a horrible time.
Mum was rushed into hospital and I flew back to be with her.
She recovered – and even thrived – but 10 days later, when she had her heart operation, it all went terribly wrong.
I’ve written a lot about that so I won’t say anymore for now, but this holiday will be different and I am sure my Mum would be happy about that.
Family is very important.
Sometimes we take them for granted.
We don’t mean to, but pressure and expectation occasionally distracts us from what’s really important and that’s why holidays are so important, because you don’t just get to let go of the distractions, you get to spend uninterrupted time with the people who make you feel fulfilled.
I’m not going to lie … holidays are very different now I have a son, but they are still magical, just in a different way.
When we were in Sydney a few weeks ago, one of the things we did was take Otis to the beach … Balmoral Beach to be precise.
Watching him play in the sand and the sea for the first time in his life was very special for me.
Seeing the joy on his face as he engaged with nature with his Mum and Dad was something that affected me deeply.
China was never going to be our home forever, but being able to easily compare against another way of living – albeit in the bubble of a holiday – certainly brought home what we now view as important.
That doesn’t mean things are going to change immediately – the fact is I still love my job, my life and China – but it does mean the things we want to explore and experiment with in the future have to fit in with certain environmental requirements that we never previously viewed as important. What’s even more amazing is that I no longer see this as a restriction of opportunity, but a sign my life has grown in ways I never previously could imagine.
That would make my parents happy which means that makes me doubly happy.
So while it is true that I am going to have another holiday just weeks after my previous one, it is no longer about me being a work shy, lazy bastard, it’s about spending time with the most important people in my life and even you couldn’t begrudge me that.
OK, you can, but I’m choosing to ignore you.
See you on the 15th.
Happy ‘year of the monkey’.
I realised that this week, I’d written a lot of rather sad posts.
Not all, but there’s definitely been a meloncholy feel running through them all.
So I thought I’d end the week on something positive.
My son.
I’ve written how much I love being Otis’ dad.
I can’t put into words how much of an honour it is to take care of him.
Watching him learn in front of my eyes is amazing.
Seeing him try things he’s just seen Jill or me do, is remarkable.
A few weeks ago, he started to clap.
Seeing his little hands bang together, while still remaining stiff, is something I’ll treasure forever.
But knowing it is all passing by at seemingly, the speed of light, is something I hate.
I want it to stop or at least slow down … and yet, at every turn, he seems to discover or learn something new and that is something I want to see so I’m sort of damned if I do, damned if I don’t.
A few days after his 7 month birthday, he started to crawl.
I know, I sound like a besotted Dad – and I am – but think about it, when was the last time you literally saw someone do something for the first time.
Try their first food?
Recognise their reflection?
Be able to move by their own actions?
It seems such a small thing and yet it is something huge.
To be where it all began is an amazing thing, made better by the fact you actually know it is significant whereas with most other things we go through in life, we only discover their importance after the event.
Which is why I want to share this moment of Otis’ development with you.
Not because I expect you to share the same emotional warmth about it that I do, but because regardless how sad, grumpy, angry or conflicted you may be feeling today … seeing a child literally experience something for the first time is something very beautiful indeed.
Have a great weekend.
Filed under: Comment, Dad, Daddyhood, Family, Jill, Mum, Mum & Dad, Otis, Parents
Oh Mum.
How I miss you.
I am in a better place than I was this time last year, but you are always in my thoughts.
I continually tell Jill how much I would have loved you to meet Otis.
He’s such a lovely little boy.
Cheeky but oh-so-sweet.
He can throw a temper tantrum in 0.3 milliseconds, but will always say “thank you” [in a weird Americanesque accent] the moment you do anything for him … from giving him a drink to opening the front door.
I think about what you’d say if you saw him.
How you’d look.
And I know the pride and joy on your face would be both for how wonderful your grandson is and how well you think I – your son – am doing with him.
Of course we both would know so much of it is down to Jill, but if I’m doing anything right [and if you read tomorrow’s post, you’ll realise that is questionable] it is down to the love and support I felt from you and Dad throughout my childhood.
The love and support I still feel, despite you both being gone.
And that’s why I’m wishing you a happy birthday … not just because I love you and I miss you, but because your presence is still with me and always will be, which is probably the best testimony I can give to you as a person and as a parent.
I am honoured that I was able to call you my Mum.
You were an amazing lady and a fabulous Mum in every possible way … even if you never thought you were and would be telling me to stop with all the compliments.
So Happy birthday Mum, tell Dad to give you an extra kiss from me. Love you. Rx