Cats in the Cradle

I awake with a jolt.

For a moment I can't move , I'm strapped in.

I'm fine - I'm sitting in a plane, now wide awake with 5 hours flying time to go. Sleeping on planes isn't too hard as long as you follow the routine - Eat the mediocre - high calorie food, watch some mediocre in flight shows ( heavily edited and redacted ) and once they turn down all the cabin lights you should nod off.

And yet here I am.

As noted in the last post - the new job - whilst progressing very well and being immensely interesting, has thrown up some challenges not previously experienced. Which therefore has not allowed me to dip into the bag of Dad knowledge and produce easy to implement solutions, which can be re-created here for your digestion.

This is disconcerting.

I was at the kids Saturday sport once and a parent said - "Love the blog but make sure you keep giving us advice " or something to that effect. (Which proves someone reads this)

So I know that the uncomfortable feeling of not knowing quite what to do will hopefully produce something we can all use....

The most noticeable challenge currently is that the amount of travel that I thought was mentioned in the interview seems to have exponentially grown.

After each trip away - I have found that inserting my self back in to the family rhythm after anywhere between 7 to 14 days away is proving slightly more difficult that I thought. It's not just the fact that you essentially travel alone and apart from meetings and conference calls,  the level of inane chit chat that a family does is greatly reduced.

And compounding this is because you have no one to bounce idea's off you  have these internal conversations that are completely validated by your own perceptions with no external input ( very dangerous)

In the mean time the family have of course continued on doing what they do , minus me. So when I return I'm like an outsider for the first few days fumbling around in my own home trying to adjust to any changes that happened sans me.

And the assumption is now , that I could have to travel again,  everyone thinks in much shorter periods of time , when I am actually around so we tend to try to accelerate the solution / outcome. This seems to be due to a now recognition that the periods of time together to resolve life's challenges are going to shorter than previous and that travel could occur again at any time putting on hold all sorts of things.

So how do I adjust for that ? We have a number of communication points in place that the boys can use to reach out to me and of course with today's technology it seems to be getting simpler.

But here's a learning point - Timing.

I've always tried to convince people that in order for clear  communication to take place you are going to have to communicate in way that they feel comfortable in. I now want to add to this - the timing. So for example if you try to communicate with your family at a time of high stress such as getting ready for school - you re going to have a bad time.

This of course doesn't help you if you need a chat because you've had a good/bad/frustrating day and want to talk to the people who understand you the best. So a little understanding will have to come in to play.

In the mean time I'll try to get back in the swing of things with the family and rest safe in the knowledge that we all know deep in our hearts that our families are the one place we are loved unconditionally. We just have to ask politely.....

Hopefully now I can stop waking up with "Cats in the Cradle" in my head......

So where abouts is that ?

Picture this - You are at a Party/BBQ/Function that you've been dragged along to with people you just don't know. You're doing the best you can to hold conversations, working through meeting everyone whilst trying to avoid all the pitfalls (you of course have read this post on Dad dating first ) but despite your best efforts you’re down to this.....

The only two questions left if you're meeting someone for the first time and have run out of things to say about your kids or your beloved

or sport

        or the weather.

                    “What do you do for a crust?”

and inevitably 

"Where are you based / is your office ?"

So previously this was not a problem, I worked out of lovely offices in the central business district and people knew the building I worked in. It was easy to describe and even if you weren't familiar with the city you could roughly picture it from the landmarks it was near. I knew all the best places to eat and where to get a good coffee.

Now that I have moved to a Global Organisation that has all changed.

You don't have one particular office that you reside in and the work is where ever you are required.

It's very hard to describe to other people that you have just spent a week being locked away in a hotel room with three other guys working on contract edits for days on end - Trust me it’s a real conversation killer.

And you now no longer have the daily routines that someone with a permanent office has. Not to mention that the perception people have of those who work from home is not exactly glowing (I'm beginning to learn this maybe jealousy).

That aside, now I have to get used to all the changes in my working day / life - for example I don’t have any onsite IT unless the beloved comes in to see why I am swearing at the printer and I have definitely become aware of how much printer ink costs – that stuff is more expensive than petrol !

There is no set start or finish time, the whole thing revolves around when the meetings are or when the project is due. You work when there is work that's required.

There also have been some adjustments between the beloved and I now that I am home a lot more, so it’s now accepted that it’s not OK to be hovering around as she goes about the tasks she normally does day to day

That being said you really start to notice all the things that need doing and cleaning. I have even found the vacuum cleaner (I've not used it but I know where it is…..)

So I decided early on that whilst I took breaks away from my PC (yes I observe OH&S) I would do one extra thing a day to help around the house. First off – The washing.

I had been carefully instructed in the need to separate the clothes into colour types and I had put on the washing and gone back to work.

There was an almighty thumping noise and a dull far away roar. On closer inspection it became clear - that’s what a washing machine spin cycle sounds like if you put way way too many clothes in to wash.

Good to know. Won't happen again.

The number of telemarketer calls you get during the day really makes you wonder why they call when the chances of someone being home are statistically low, for a while I chatted to them, but now I rarely answer as I have all the time-share holidays I need and I’m all raffled out.

So where is it all at after 3 months ? 

The work is interesting and my colleagues are located all over the world which is really cool. The support is excellent and I can pretty much work from anywhere that has electricity and Internet.

On the plus side for the first time ever I have been able to attend some of the kids school activities which is great and that will continue.

On the negative side I found myself yelling at the pigeons who were sitting in the herb pot squashing the coriander.

I think I need to go outside a bit more……..

Well, at least they didn't take that.....

One of the things they don't teach you in school or anywhere for that fact is - about being robbed.

And of course they don't because they assume the best about the world - just like parents who play pass the parcel and ensure everyone gets a prize.
But the reality is that for some of us, it will happen. And for some of us it will happen more than once.

I'm talking here about your house - not your kids under 12 football teams issues with bad umpiring by the way.

No one explains to you that sinking feeling in your stomach when you get home ( or worse wake up in the morning) and realize that - someone you don't know and didn't invite in - has been into your house and not only gone through your stuff but taken things that are yours.

On a side note I've often wondered that if they don't take stuff that you think is  valuable - does that mean it's crap ? I mean apart for photos and the like it's a bit of a blow to the ego if you think about it.

I've had the displeasure of being robbed many times, as I live in a suburb that is a bit of a magnet for people who need money for things that enrich their life ( so their brains are telling them anyway) and have no way to fund this, other than removing your stuff and exchanging it for cash at a significantly lower exchange rate than when you first purchased it.

Nowadays with improved security and an increase in the median house value, that propensity has decreased some what. But it doesn't mean they aren't still trying to get to my priceless odd sock collection.

And after the 3rd time it happens you kinda just fall into a routine - calling the police, the insurance company, the banks etc, but once you have kids it becomes very different. They don't have any experience to fall back on for this new problem.

This experience is new and terrifying. They figured you would keep them safe. They figured you would shield them from the evils of the world. ( they know it exists, just not in their area )

So all of a sudden just like I did when it happened to my parents, they realise they have to go through this.

The last time it happened to us it was a mini home invasion, they picked the  front door lock grabbed all the purses and wallets neatly laid out on the sideboard ( see where being organised gets you ! ) with the car keys and my sports gear and none of us (including Captain Incontinence ) were any the wiser.

I still fail to see the point of a guard dog that can not do exactly that, but anyway. We still live in hope that all the running around the back yard barking at the pigeons in the trees is basic training and will one day transform into preemptive 24hr protection.

If you think that some days your dealings with bureaucracy is difficult - try proving who you are to someone in the government without a single piece of identification. So it went like this - to get a temporary license you need photo ID, but the only photo ID I had was my license I explained to the brick wall.

The funniest part of the whole thing really came when the beloved came to pick me up from a triathlon in the hire car that resembled a pregnant roller-skate.
I basically had to disassemble my bike, fold all the seats flat, shove all the gear in around that and then make the kids walk home.

And then after they declared our much loved 4WD a write off due to " Bio Hazards present in vehicle " it's off we go to find a new vehicle to transport the ridiculous amount of things we seem to need to take when we go anywhere. Buying a car is a whole different matter and more than enough for a separate post.

We went through the whole unpleasant and came out the other side - hopefully - an awful lot wiser.

And I think the boys now understand that sometimes you might get none of your things back and sometimes you get back someone else's size 12 bikini.

At least they didn't take my odd socks, so the search for their lost mates continues........

The Toilet and The male

This week I'm going to try and have a serious discussion about a serious topic. This is for all the blokes and their sons out there who are probably doing untold damage to their respective mothers and partners ( not to mention the environs ) with their behaviour.

Its probably not all intentional, but it is certainly undesirable.

I doubt it will remain serious but hey at least I tried.

I'm talking about the smallest room in the house. I’m talking about the toilet.

The porcelain bus

The big white phone

The dunny

The can

The head

The list goes on but you get what I mean. It's the most visited room in the house but the least talked about ( unless someone is complaining about it )

With the birth of our Sons the beloved knew that toilet training was going to be a challenge. Having put up with my mates and their inaccuracy for years she was ready for the difficult road ahead. It seemed to be resolved the day they were handed cleaning clothes and told to clean their own toilet. 

What is it with us men and toilets ? Why are we seemingly so oblivious to the rest of the world and their feelings ?

It's certainly not a BBQ discussion topic and let’s face it most of the time it’s just a quick whizz and you're off again. 

But sometimes you've been to dinner and your friend /s have used some bizarre ingredient from the back of the cupboard fridge and quite frankly it's not going to resolve itself quickly or easily.

And even if we did discuss it it would probably go something like this " I remember once when I was a kid my friend reckoned his Great Grandma said to him once ""Where is the smallest room in the house ? So he told her. 10 minutes later he found  her in the pantry with her pants down. Insert roaring laughter here.

So are there rules ?

Of course - just as there are rules in regards to gym change rooms ( look only at each other in the eye etc.) , there are rules that our spouses want us to follow

Don’t look at me like that. You heard me the first time.  Your spouse is going to be a whole lot happier if you follow these simple rules.

So below is listed the things I'm told to incorporate in to my life as a male.

1) Fans – Most bathrooms have them already built in to the light switch so it goes on when you turn on the light, but if it doesn't turn it on. No ifs or buts. ( see what I did there)

2) Sprays – I'm a bit divided here. I mean masking the odours is fine but no –one wants their house smelling like a blend Tahitian flowers and animal based compost. So use your judgement on this one.

3) Doors – 1 rule here. Close it. Nuff said.

So there you have it. It’s not that difficult now is it ?

Yet it seems to escape most of us. So in the vain hope my boys will one day read this I'll post it here and hope.

Enough said.

I am not just a wallet and a couch

As I climb out of bed in the dark and traipse off to the kitchen to put on the coffee, the house is quiet and I realise this is what it's going to be like in a few more years. The house is clean. I don't trip over anything and it smells faintly of vanilla.

image courtesy of www.flickr.com and Terry Trevithick

It's just me and the beloved.
Oh, and that idiot dog who gets up to go to the toilet more times that an incontinent grandparent. 

I'm OK with that , I married her because quite frankly we never stop chatting and we have always discussed what it will be like when we retire , what we will do,  where we will go - because I think that as parents we are going  find it difficult staying relevant as the kids get older.

At least until they need to move back home because they are building a house or renovating and have nowhere to live. (At which point I will have to start wearing pants again…..)

So do they still need me ?

Of course they do - who else is going to pay for the 1.2 kg of Weet bix and 15 litres of milk they go through each week. Not to mention the fact that if I wasn't around the would run out of clean plates and cutlery in the first day. And don't even start on the clothes portion of their lives.

I'm not saying that I'm completely irrelevant I'm just saying that there’s a new phase coming and I want to be ready (You know the Beloved, she'll  want a backup plan for the back up plan) because emotionally it's going to be tough.

When I get home each night from work nowadays, there isn't those two cheeky little grins screaming "daddy's home !" , "daddy's home !" and clinging to a leg each as I greet the house, now the only person happy to see me is the dog, and I think that’s because I bring in the smells of the world with me or at least the vague promise of food.

I remember back when, once I hit 15 my parents were the people “so lame” and it wasn't until I was a 20 something that I realised I really do need them and they weren't just some extra furniture that was handy to crash on whenever I felt like it. And that was when I really started to have a proper relationship with them, you know each side putting in and getting out equally. 

We have set about the kids next phase of their life and are starting to make them independent. We can’t wrap them up in cotton wool ( otherwise they will make terrible husbands and live with us forever) they have to learn how to be functioning members of planet earth. We know this.

But it’s happening just so damm fast. They cab catch trams , make lunch and even breakfast. ( none of this gets done without intimidation effort and prompting and guiding.) But anyway they seem to be grasping some concepts.

So I guess for the time being I'll just focus on keeping my expectations low and focus on being there when they need me.

I was at a Rugby match to watch the Eldest and I swear to you the u/15’s team were still finishing shaving whilst getting out of the cars they had driven to the ground – They look like grown men.

image courtesy of www.albany.edu

I point out to the Beloved that this what we have to look forward to and we share a little wistful glance at our youngest son playing under a tree.
While the rest of the world sees a boy poking a dead pigeon with a stick to see what will happen  - we see a little boy still curious about the world.

Tomorrow morning he can have 3 Weet Bix instead of the 6 he normally has, maybe that will slow things down a bit……..

Family death match

I reach out full stretch.

Nothing , its all just air.

Then as fast as conventional physics teaches us, the earth is in my face and catching my hip with all the grace of a hippopotamus falling off a skateboard.

I lie there - the dust swirls gently in the fading sunlight and the sweat trickles off my face mingling with the dirt making little tiny mud puddles. Both of these things are useful in hiding my tears at yet another loss.

At the other end the victor stands, defiant. The Beloved has won.

Another family death match has been decided.

I get up and dust my self off, get a beer and sit down to wait for the pain in my hip to subside. The boys are still laughing.

The eldest declares " time for me to whoop your butt little  man" and with that it's on. Our match is forgotten and the the two boys are at once locked in a similarly intense battle.

The volley ball set we got for Christmas ( the above matches ) really is just part of the long running competitions we are constantly engaged in. We don't mind too much what it is - just that they have to be able to be competitive for all of us , so weight lifting or formula 1 racing are out.

( I am thinking though, we should get a clay target set and some shotguns for next years summer games and only because The Beloved  banned bare knuckle boxing after I dislocated a finger and the youngest went to school with a massive bruise in the middle of his forehead.)

I like the fact that we are competitive. I try and teach the boys that life is like that it's a competition. Not all the time, but lets face it -

You compete for school results
You compete for a Uni place
You compete for a job and your promotions
You compete for all sorts of things

So you need to know how to compete. There are rules.

There are consequences if you act badly during competition.
That's where the fine line and the parental boundaries come in. Time and time again I see parents acting badly during their child's sporting activities and I caution both boys about what is acceptable during sport or indeed any competition - win or lose.

But family death match is different. Anything goes, because sometimes breaking the rules and watching it all burn down is just so much fun.

I still remember the stare and the long silence punctuated by further glaring after, because during a very close game of golf  The Beloved was in front of a bunker with a short pitch shot to get on to the green.

                                                                              image courtesy of www.intotherough.co.uk

Being only 1 shot behind, I thought ooohhhh that's an easy shot , how funny would it be to say

" Tough shot , don't choke".

 Except that instead of saying it in my head I said it kinda out loud. So instead of easily making the shot and wining - the ball hit the bunker and it took another two shots to get out, and the lead was surrendered.

I still have a cute little scar on my knee from her putter.

So as I watch the boys go about their weekend  sports I  am filled with a sense of impending doom. With their bodies slowly lengthening and muscles filling out, it seems inevitable that our my reign at the top of the family death match table will all too soon be over.

Think I'll buy a croquet set next, after all it's only a game  - right ?

Tactics and teenagers

This episode is bought to you by the letter T and the number 6

Ever wondered how some parents seem to be able to get there kids to do things and others just seem to be constantly yelling at their kids ( and each other) ?

Picture this - two meth addict parents with a 3 year old in a stroller are at a major intersection waiting to cross. There are probably 15 other people waiting to cross this road as well. The lights change but the pedestrian lights do not and everybody is forced to wait another set of lights change until the green man is presented and they can all cross.

The mother proceeds to yell at the father all the way across the lights about how "All these fu#@%ers didn't bother to fu@$#en push the fu*%^ button to cross the fu*+!@ lights".
"They were fu%$#en standing there the whole fu&#$%en time and not one of them fu*&^%en tried.

The father is trailing behind her and  is profusely apologising the whole time. They disappear down the road with her still swearing that this is the problem with the world today.

I tell you this story because I didn't stop laughing  for about a day and in fact I still laugh about it. The child in the stroller , with her head rotating furiously from side to side in an effort to see her parents arguing behind her was learning.

She was learning tactics for getting by in the world. Now, you and I both know they are entirely wrong but that's what I'm getting at.

I have found that if you just yell at or nag or berate your child to do something then you are probably either not going to get it done or just end up with a resentful situation.

image courtesy of de.wikipedia.org

Tactics are becoming increasingly important in our lives as well , with a teenager (added hormones included ) and a potential teenager lurking behind him - just watching the interactions.

No longer do mindless incentives work

Pleading does not work

Berating does not work

If / then statements do not always work

However parental unity is still working ( I think this is a fundamental underpin of the universe , so I'm confident it won't change any time soon). As long as we both stay firm with the decisions the desired result is achieved.

I'm finding we have to get to the solution and  make him feel good about himself that the choice is right and he was involved in the trip to get there.

It's delicate as the pressure from being in Year 7 has quadrupled from Year 6 and it's a jungle out there. New kids in the class along with all the other kids jockeying for position. Getting around a larger school area and all of a sudden timing is important as well as having all the right books and equipment.

So no matter how much you prep your child for senior school sometimes the shock of the vastness of the whole thing can be just overwhelming

But we won't tiptoe around it , he has to learn that sometimes no matter what - you have to push on as I don't want him to be afraid of a challenge and I don't want him to grow up risk averse. i.e. if it's too hard or someone tells you its too difficult they give up with out even attempting.


It's the same way we let him let him do what some parents would class as dangerous now days like catching public transport by himself.

Just as you're tired from school / sport it is the same as if you're at work and tired, there are deadlines and expectations.

This of course can be dangerous - its kinda like balancing a hand-grenade on a knife- you know its going to go off you just don't know which direction and when. Especially if you're tired or not 100% focussed on what you doing with them at the time.

And as tempting as it is to tell them how everything will end up or what will happen when the do something you know that  you can tell them until they're blue in the face but until they learn themselves.

On the flip side we have learned that you can, with some degree of success, put 2 minute noodles in a bagel and eat it.

So where do the letter T and the number 6 come in ?

T is for tactics, get them right and you on a winner.

The number 6 is the current number of times you have to ask to get him to brush his teeth and put deodorant on.