Filed under: Attitude & Aptitude, Context, Culture, Daddyhood, Family, Innocence, Jill, Love, Mum & Dad, My Fatherhood, Parents, Prejudice, Sexism, Social Divide
I love my son.
I love him so much.
He is such a sweet kid.
Sure he’s a bit cheeky and a bit mischievous, but he’s just a lovely little boy.
I want his innocence and wonder to never leave him – but sadly, I know it will.
I also know things I’d never wish on anyone will happen to him.
Bullying.
Heartbreak.
Sadness.
And all I can do is try to prepare him for it in a way where he knows he can come through the other side.
Of course part of that will be by making sure he knows he is loved and supported unconditionally by his parents … the other part is making sure he is brought up with as much openness as possible.
One of those things is him understanding men and women are equal.
As I wrote about a while ago, my wife and I have had some stick from relative strangers in how we’re bringing Otis up.
One of the things they’ve ‘questioned’ is why we let Otis play with dolls and brooms, why we bought him a kitchen set and why we let him dance wherever and whenever the mood takes him.
Of course it’s none of their fucking business … but the fact is, we don’t want Otis to grow up thinking boys do this and girls do that and seeing our little boy being as happy playing with dolls as he is with his iPad is utterly wonderful.
I have to admit, I find the level of sexism around me frightening. I find it especially bad when I hear it from a man who has daughters. I literally cannot understand that.
And yet many ignore it exists.
They say any wrong behaviour is ‘cultural’ rather than sexist.
Of course there are cultural traits that define gender roles – especially in Asia – but that doesn’t mean they’re right or you have to carry on with them, even more so when you are not from this part of the World.
And yet it is everywhere – even in supposedly liberal and developed nations, as this wonderful piece by Hillary Clinton shows.
While Hillary says the way women are judged differently to men is ‘not bad, just a fact’, I find it deplorable.
But it’s true.
I remember having to tell one of my talented female planners to clap her hands a bit differently because it looked too much like a little girl and a bunch of sexist pricks would then judge her for that. I hated having to do that … but there was no way I was going to let this talented individual be ignored just because they had decided the way she applauds looks juvenile.
And that’s why I like what Cindy Gallop is doing.
Or what she’s trying to do.
My problem is she’s treating all white men as the enemy which, in my opinion, not only doesn’t serve her purpose any good, but is the sort of generalised bollocks that certain white men have treated females.
And that’s why Otis is being raised to see equality not prejudice … because values, roles and/or potential shouldn’t be evaluated or judged by gender or demographic, even if the way society operates – including those supposedly fighting against it – wants to keep that the norm.
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.
One of the things I have always loved is sitting down to a good documentary.
Oh my god, I cannot tell you the joy I have felt watching hundreds – if not thousands – of them over the years. It also helps explain why I have over 3000 of them filling my house and storage units all around the bloody world.
However now I have a son – a super active, super happy son – it’s hard to even watch a commercial without interruption, let alone a movie.
So recently, when I was on a plane for a work trip, I shunned falling asleep [something I normally do even before the plane has taken off] and forced myself to watch an inflight film.
To be honest, the movie wasn’t that good, but the ability to sit there and be able to concentrate without interruption was a revelation.
I literally felt a different level of engagement and entertainment.
Of course, it helped that I also couldn’t use my phone – because normally, I would be on IMDB and getting info on what I am watching, while I am watching it.
For possibly the first time I understood what Jill means when she say’s she often feels I’m not fully present when we’re watching something together.
I used to think it was her way of saying, “Just fake being happy to watch a period drama with me” … but no, she meant I wasn’t going to get as much enjoyment out of our shared time together because I was allowing myself to be distracted.
But now I know.
Now I know that as much as I love my son … as much as I love my tech … there are moments where stepping inside a bubble is good for you.
Not just in terms of focus and calm … but in terms of enjoyment.
This should not be a shock to me.
Hell, I did something years ago for a hotel group based on this very issue, but I guess the real insight here is that nothing makes you see something like having it taken away from you.
Guess this means I’ll be finding a bunch of overseas work trips to be going on now. Ha.
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, 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