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: Comment, Dad, Daddyhood, Family, Jill, Love, Mum & Dad, My Fatherhood, Otis, Parents
So on Friday, my beloved Otis turns 6.
SIX!
It’s gone in the blink of an eye and yet, when I think of all the things he’s gone through, he’s packed so much in.
Born in China.
The Californian life in LA.
The rush, bustle and noise of London.
The peace and tranquility of country-life.
And soon, another new adventure in New Zealand.
In-between that, he’s seen his Dad collapse when his Mum – Otis’ Nona – passed away. Learned to say goodbye to people he had grown to love. Discover how to deal with new environments like homes and schools. And explore the majesty of the World by visiting countries such as Italy, Canada, Japan, America, England, China and Australia.
For 6 years, that’s more than many fit into their entire and yet he has embraced it with a level of happiness, curiosity and excitement that takes my breath away.
I honestly feel it’s an honour to be his Dad and given this will be the strangest birthday he will [hopefully] ever have thanks to COVID, our goal is to try and make it one of the most memorable.
To commemorate that theme on this blog, every day this week will be dedicated to him.
No comments [except on his special day], just posts that attempt to put into words how much he is loved, focused on different periods of the life he’s lived so far.
Not because he’ll care – or even know – but because I want to celebrate a person who is everything to me. Someone who has taught me more than I’ve probably taught him and, in all honesty, is the absolute best part of who I am, who I’ve ever been and who I will ever be.
So this week is dedicated to Otis … the kid I loved before we ever met.
Filed under: Attitude & Aptitude, Colenso, Comment, Dad, Daddyhood, Emotion, Empathy, Family, Fatherhood, Friendship, Home, Jill, Jillyism, Love, Mum & Dad, My Fatherhood, Paul
I can’t believe that tomorrow, we will be in the last month of the year.
Given we have basically all been confined to working in our homes, doing the same thing over and over and over again … it’s amazing how quickly this year has seemingly gone.
Of course, while our lives have been in arrested development, everything around us has been changing at a rapid rate.
From a personal perspective, in addition to the constant stream of dramas revolving around COVID-19 and the US elections, I experienced being made redundant, buying a new house, moving into the new house, seeing Otis go to a new school he adores, being asked to work on some of the most weird and wonderful creative projects I’ve ever had the opportunity to work on [for ‘clients’ I never dreamt I would get to work with], set up the adventure that is Uncorporated, mess about with the minds of procurement departments and enjoy the joy of being offered a job at one of my absolutely favourite agencies in the whole wide World, Colenso … which all combined to ensured life felt it was still rushing forward even though so much of my physical life stayed exactly the same.
Not that I didn’t love my physical life staying the same because it was basically the best bits of my life delivered in ways I had never really experienced them before,
Being with my family every single day.
Enjoying breakfasts, lunch and dinners with them.
Hanging out. Playing. Spending time just in each others life.
So while acknowledging the utter privilege I have in my life that let’s me be able say this – and acknowledging the fact that because my parents have sadly passed away, I did not have to deal with the emotional pressures and challenges of looking after elderly family members when you could not see them – I can say 2020 has been one of the best years of my life.
Seriously.
And while I look at 2021 with excitement, there is also a feeling of sadness this year is going to soon end because there’s been many things I have discovered, enjoyed and experienced that I either never knew, didn’t realise or just didn’t want to end.
I totally get I may be the only person who thinks this way – though my best friend Paul probably agrees – but that’s how I feel.
I know I am in a position of great fortune.
I know many are in very different situations.
But whatever your circumstances … I hope the final month of 2020 lets you feel either a hint of optimism for what could be ahead or grateful for the lessons this year has revealed to you. And if you can’t and are worried about it, then please get in touch – because while I can’t promise I can change this for you, I can promise I’ll listen and help you create the conditions that could increase the odds of making it so.
Have a great week.
Filed under: Attitude & Aptitude, Childhood, Comment, Daddyhood, Family, Happiness, Home, Jill, Jillyism, Love, My Fatherhood, Otis, Parents
Yep that’s Jill playing Otis’ Ben 10 game.
Yes, that’s a Macca’s breakfast on the table.
And yes, that’s Rosie and our rocking-horse sheep watching on.
In fact, the only person not in this photo is Otis … who is a bit miffed his Mum has taken over his game.
Of course, Jill claims she’s just wanting to help him past a difficult bit.
But I know that face of concentration.
She’s in deep competition mode … determined to win at all costs … resistant to surrender regardless what she faces.
And right here, is a moment of my family I love.
Doing something [kinda] together and enjoying the ridiculousness of it all.
I love this.
I love that COVID has enabled me to have more of this with my family.
Which is why while I acknowledge the devastating impact it has had – and continues to have – on so many, what it has given to me is an opportunity to embrace and celebrate how precious my family are and how much I love being with them.
Even if Otis feels he’s being ‘game denied’ by his Mum.
Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Childhood, Comment, Context, Dad, Daddyhood, Emotion, Empathy, England, Family, Friendship, Fulfillment, Happiness, Home, Jill, Love, Mum, Mum & Dad, Nottingham, Otis, Parents, Paul, Relationships, Rosie
When I was growing up, our back garden was a disaster.
Overgrown.
Tall grass.
Brambles.
Bushes.
Beautiful mayhem.
As a kid, I thought it was amazing.
Me and Paul would run in there and it felt like we were in the jungle.
From playing hide and seek to pretending we were soldiers, it could all happen there.
Then around the age of 5, Mum and Dad had an extension put onto the house and because the loan they took out for it was a bit more than they needed to have it built, they spent the rest on the garden.
Oh how they loved it.
They spent hours there.
Creating it. Cultivating it. Nurturing it. Admiring it.
My god, the way my dad treated his ‘sweet peas’ was enough to make me think he loved them more than me sometimes.
And while I still could play softball tennis with Mum on the patio, I always felt I had had something robbed from me – despite the fact there was a massive park down the road and huge fields of nothingness around the house.
So from there on in, while I could appreciate a nice garden, I always saw them as something that pushed me away rather than welcomed me in.
Until now.
I readily admit I had nothing to do with the garden we have in the home we have just bought.
I readily admit part of its appeal is that it’s mature, so feels natural rather than contrived.
And I readily admit I am still as shit and unenthusiastic about gardening as I ever was.
But my god, I am shocked at how much I love it.
I can stare at it for hours.
Sit in it for days.
Doing nothing but looking at it’s beautiful vibrancy and shades.
Seeing Rosie the cat stretch out on the deck like she has just hit ‘peak cat life’.
Watching Otis play on the swing hanging from the tree then looking at Jill picking up all the apples that have fallen from Otis’ adventure. Turning them into pies that we scoff or give to the neighbours in an blatant attempt to mitigate the mayhem we’ve caused in the first few months of living here with huge moving trucks blocking the road and electrical blackouts that we absolutely, definitely did not cause.
The idea of all this is about as foreign to me as you could get.
I’m a city person.
I like noise and bustle not nature and quiet.
Yet … yet … this is something very special.
Something I feel a real privilege to experience, which I acknowledge is only possible because of the privileged position I am in.
And while all these feelings could all be because of my age or because this house is our family home – regardless of the incoming NZ adventure – the impact of a simple garden has been far more than I ever imagined.
Which makes me think it could also have something to do with making me feel closer to Mum and Dad.
You see while our little garden at home was nothing like this, it was incredibly special to them.
Sure it was beautiful. Sure it was the fruits of their hard work and care. But it seemed to be a place that let them feel everything was going to be OK, regardless of the challenges.
And over the years, our wonderful little family faced many – but that garden always gave them comfort and joy.
A little piece of heaven.
Blossoming into radiant beauty and colour even after the harshest of winters.
Reminding them that the darkest times will always welcome a new spring.
And while as a kid I didn’t really like how that garden had robbed me of my jungle, I grew to appreciate it.
I saw what it did for my parents.
I still remember how my Dad stared in wonder at it after his stroke.
He’d been in hospital for months and was finally allowed home.
And while he needed a lot of care from Mum, that garden was like medicine for him. Helping him forget the pain he was in. Helping him forget the turmoil he was going through.
No longer able to talk.
No longer able to walk properly.
But here, facing the fruits of his love and labour, all was forgotten.
He was safe.
He felt nourished.
He was connected to something his body was not able to let him enjoy anymore.
He and Mum could transport themselves to a time and place where everything was OK.
And while I hope I never face the tragedy my Father suffered – and acknowledge this garden is from the toil of others hands – I feel I get what nature was able to do for Mum and Dad.
Because it isn’t just what grows in the garden, but what it helps blossom within yourself.
