Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Babies, Empathy, Family, Fatherhood, Jill, Mum, Mum & Dad, My Fatherhood, Otis, Parents
So this is going to be a weird post, but it’s an important one.
You see a few weeks ago, my wife wrote this …
“As I nursed my baby into toddlerhood I noticed a shift in the messages from outside voices. From supportive and encouraging in the newborn days to surprised, questioning or doubtful once he was a walking, talking toddler.
I like to think that most people want to help with their comments or advice, maybe they worry that our ‘extended’ nursing could somehow impact negatively on my son, after all, it’s not what most people do… Dependence seems to be something a lot of them are concerned about.
I want to show them how my beautiful, sweet, spirited, glorious little boy greets the world (and taxi drivers) with a wide smile or a cheeky ‘Ni Hao!’… how he chants ‘run, run!’ as his still chubby legs stride ever faster down little hills … how he bops and boogies to every kind of music, at every opportunity, in every environment … how he sometimes forgets to even look back to find me because he’s exploring his amazing, ever expanding world … but I guess they’re not completely wrong about him being dependent on me.
He depends on me for comfort, safety, security & connection when he’s sad or tired or hurt or frustrated or overwhelmed. As long as nursing provides this place of refuge for my precious boy I’m ecstatic I can be there for him. So I want those out there who question or doubt or suspect to know, we’re doing great thanks, our version of dependence is exactly as it should be …”
OK … OK … so she writes much better than me, but the fact is, I have been shocked how many people feel they have a right to be a judge on my sons upbringing just because they have their own child.
I accept most of them do it in a well-intentioned way [and fortunately, most of our friends have said, “the best rule to parenting is to only follow your rules and ignore everyone else”] but there has been more than a few – often relative strangers – who have used a judgemental tone or look when they’ve discovered we don’t agree with letting our son ‘cry himself to sleep’, let alone play with dolls or dance whenever music is on.
But here’s the big thing …
Given 50% of Otis is from me, the fact he is turning out to be such an amazing, wonderful little boy means it is 100% down to how Jill.
What she wrote is not an attempt to say ‘our way is the right way’, the purpose of it is to remind people that we have the right to decide what is the right way for us.
But what I find even more amazing is that given how well Otis is turning out, those who challenge our approach are trying to find fault in perfection … so I’d just like them to do me a favour and be an expert on their children, rather than other people’s, though this ‘know when to talk and know when to shut up’ could apply to far more than just raising children as I am sure many of you can appreciate.
Filed under: Attitude & Aptitude, Comment, Experience, Family, Fatherhood, Holiday, Jill, Love, Otis
So by the time you read this post, I’ll be in Paris.
And yes, it’s for work.
It’s potentially the best work assignment of my life because not only do I have the pleasure of presenting to a bunch of global NIKE guys, I’m doing a presentation about Boatie McBoatface.
No really, I am.
Mind you, having written that down, I’m starting to realise the idea was better when it was in my head.
Oh well, too late now …
But if you think that’s showing off, wait till you hear this.
Tomorrow I fly home …
But it’s not to go back to work, oh no, it’s to pick up my wife and son and then get on another plane and spend a month on holiday.
I can’t wait … we will be catching up with old friends, seeing members of family and doing a bunch of new things in new places.
But most of all, we will be together … and while I’d love Rosie the cat to be with us, it will still be very special for me.
Being together is precious.
Of course that is to be expected, however when you have a young child, it takes on another dimension.
You don’t just do things together … you get to experience new things together.
Normally with a young child, life falls into 2 parts:
1. You bring them into your life. [Where they experience things you’ve done before]
2. You let them explore their life. [Where they experience things designed just for them]
But on a holiday – especially a holiday where you will be spending time in a place none of you have been before – you get to experience things for the first time together, literally share an experience where everyone is [kind-of] equal.
Now while I know it is exceedingly unlikely my 18 month old baby will ever remember anything from it, the fact is I will and I can tell you it will automatically be something important in my life and that makes me extra excited to be going away.
I’m back on the 17th July, so enjoy your holiday from me while I enjoy my holiday from you.
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.
_______________________________________________________________________________
* 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, 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