Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Anniversary, Attitude & Aptitude, Birthday, Childhood, Comment, Dad, Daddyhood, Emotion, Empathy, Family, Home, Jill, Love, Mum, Otis, Parents
Yesterday would have been my Mum’s birthday.
My Mum’s 87th birthday.
That means she has been gone 4 years and frankly, that seems incredible.
So much has happened in that time …
From moving countries twice.
To changing jobs twice.
To selling our family home to buy a new one.
And while I am in a much better place than I was after the tragic days that she died, I still am prone to being hit by moments where her loss is almost overwhelming for me.
I wish she could have met Otis for real.
I still remember her words when I called her minutes after he was born.
I was incredibly emotional and she was so tender towards me.
Making sure I was OK, Jill was OK and Otis.
Asking if the baby crying in the background was her grandson.
Telling me how happy she was and how happy she was for us.
How she loved the name Otis.
And while she was alone in her home in Nottingham – wishing madly that she was with us – she still told me to go and be with Jill and my son because she was the most compassionate, thoughtful person I have ever known.
While Mum saw Otis on video chat, sent me countless emails/SMS’s about him and – for a brief while – was in the same room together [though sadly it was after she had passed away] … the fact is they never were together in the flesh and I would have loved to have seen that happen.
To see her face as he called her Nona.
To watch her smile he wrapped his arms around you and gave her a big hug and kiss.
To look at my Mum reading her first grandchild a story or walking him through the gardens and explaining the flowers or just watching him run around like a tsunami and then look at me with that look in her eye that tells me everything.
How he’s perfect.
How she loves him so much.
How she is so proud of me and Jill.
How happy she is right at that very moment.
That would be the best present for her – not to mention for me – and while none of those things will be able to happen for real, I will think about them tonight when I’m home and giving Otis a big hug and kiss, because while there are many things I can do a whole lot better at, my Mum [and Dad] taught me one thing I am very good at.
How to love.
Happy birthday Mum, I miss you so much.
Hope you and Dad are laughing and holding hands.
Rx
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Authenticity, Comment, Culture, Dad, Daddyhood, Emotion, Empathy, Family, Home, Jill, Love, Mum, Mum & Dad, My Fatherhood, Nottingham, Otis, Paul, Resonance
So the time has come to close the door on the house I grew up in for one final time.
I’ve written the reasons for why this is happening in the past – as I have the reasons why the house was, and always will be, be so important to me – but it is the beginning of a new chapter for my family and my Mum and Dad would be so happy.
Anyway, we went to visit her one final time.
While the garden remained pretty much as my parents left it – thanks to us having a gardener visit every fortnight for the past 4 years [and we’ve taken a couple of things from there to plant in our new home so we will forever be connected] – going into the actual house was a very different feeling.
Part of it was because there was nothing in it.
No furniture.
No people.
No noise.
And so the overall effect was the house felt smaller … more fragile … and yet, as I walked through each room, there were so many emotions going through me.
As I watched my son run through the place holding his toys, I could see me – probably at his age – doing the same.
I saw where my Raleigh Grifter was waiting for me in 1989, on Christmas day.
I could see where my Dad – and then Mum – would sit in the lounge, on their rocking chair.
I could hear my Dad shouting ‘it’s ready’ from the kitchen our Saturday Beefburger was ready for scoffing down.
I could see my old clock radio when I was in the ‘small bedroom’ and my big stereo when I got ‘upgraded’ to the bigger room.
I could see the bed Mum and Dad slept in … where I would sit by them and chat throughout my time in the house.
Mum and Dad’s bedroom was especially poignant to me.
Regardless what happens in the future, it will always be ‘their room’ as they used for the entire time they were alive [and I was around].
Below is a photo of their empty bedroom that I took.
I’ve superimposed another photo of Otis that I took on the day after Mum died.
He’d just flown with his Mum overnight from Shanghai and he’s lying on the side Mum used to sleep on, looking at a painting of a mother and her child that hung above her bed.
He never got to meet her in person – he was supposed to a couple of weeks later when she recovered from her operation.
Alas it didn’t work out that way which is why this photo is so precious to me and why I feel, in a weird way, they did get to be together – hugging each other tight – if only for a second.
Another thing that got me, was when I went to the garage.
When we were having the house refurbished because we wanted to help a family live in a good area, we wrote a message on the wall about how much that house meant to us.
Well, when we checked at the weekend, we saw the tenants had left their own note and I have to say – it got to me because while my life is moving on, it was built in those 4 walls and I hope it does the same for anyone and everyone who lives there.
Thank you Mum.
Thank you Dad.
Thank you house … you will always be treasured.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Comment, Family, Jill, Otis
A few weeks ago, we were driving to Nottingham very early.
We’d only been on the road about 30 minutes and the atmosphere in the car was toxic.
Everyone was snappy with each other.
Everyone was whining.
Everyone wanted to be somewhere else.
Anyway, like some contrived ad – I saw a McDonalds enter into view over the hill and decided to pull in.
I was making the assumption that we were either tired or hungry and even if it was neither, I was confident that putting a McMuffin of any description in our mouths would at least stop us being assholes to each other.
As it happened, we were hungry because within a few bites of food, the mood lightened dramatically … but not nearly as much as when Jill got her McBaconMuffin thing.
Why?
Because it looked like this.
I don’t know what made the people behind the counter put so much bacon in it, but for all their generosity, the fact it looked like the food equivalent of someone at the beach who hadn’t “groomed” ensured it wasn’t eaten but it was replaced by laughs.
So whoever made this porn food delight, thank you for making the rest of our journey a whole lot less eventful.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Advertising, Attitude & Aptitude, Authenticity, Comment, Communication Strategy, Culture, Daddyhood, Family, Friendship, Jill, Love, My Fatherhood, Otis
Dear Ring Doorbell marketing people …
If you want your product to have more emotion in your communication, stop talking about stopping thieves and start talking about how your product can capture spontaneous moments of family love and happiness.
This picture of me with my son is one of my all time favourites.
Caught by your product as we waited for his Mum to open the door.
Imagine the instagram account you could have of happiness, love and family …
A much nicer association than the fear-mongering you tend to peddle.
You’re welcome.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Childhood, Comment, Dad, Daddyhood, Family, Fatherhood, Jill, Love, Otis, Parents
OK, so now we have got over the fun and frolics of yesterdays April Fool post, I want to bring it back to something serious.
Recently we decided we would have a day where Otis could make all the decisions.
He immediately went for it big time by asking to go to a local builders cafe for breakfast, where he ordered chips, drank a Coke Zero and watched Paw Patrol on his iPad.
You can see him in the photo at the top of this post.
Living the dream.
Anyway, I mentioned this on Facebook when someone I’ve not met but vaguely know wrote:
“We practice ‘good choices’ day, you should try it”.
Now while I was sure it had come out more condescending than intended – this person does have form in being judgemental from their self-appointed pedestal – and Jill decided to inform him of this.
She replied:
“You don’t know me or my son.
Your comment comes across as judgmental and condescending and makes me uncomfortable because it implies my son was making ‘bad’ decisions.
Perhaps if you did know us you would understand our parenting style more and that we aim not to use words like ‘good’ or ‘bad’ because of their unfortunate side effect of creating shame.
Decisions are just decisions, and I believe that kids need space to make a whole variety… nobody makes ‘good’ decisions all the time and I want him to grow up knowing that that’s ok, normal and part of life.
Perhaps your comment really was just about sharing what you see as a fun idea, but your way of expressing it missed the mark…”
As I am sure you will all agree, that was a pretty awesome response.
But more importantly, it highlights how we are attempting to bring up Otis.
Coming back to England has been wonderful, but the one thing that has surprised us is the pretty draconian approach to instilling certain qualities into our kids.
Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate it’s being done for good reason, but the overt shame/reward approach bothers us. A lot.
There are many reasons for it – and of course, each to their own – but this poster sums up the one we fear the most.
This situation applies to all.
Not just kids … but family members, friends and colleagues.
What’s worse is this tends to stick with people.
It is one of the elements that has driven so many of the Corporate Gaslighting stories.
I get situations can make us angry.
I get people can do stupid things.
But when your approach to correction is shame, you’re trying to improve the outcome of one thing through the destruction of another.
You might not mean it.
You might not want it.
But you are doing it.