All the small things, true care, truth brings

As with most things in life the passage of time either adds a new perspective on things or completely distorts the view of them. So it is with precisely that in mind that I approach the fact that my marriage is now over.

As you know I am extremely passionate and sometimes have a hard time letting things go that aren't right or that have managed to creep under my skin. Take for example the following - You are trying to cook an egg for someone you love. The yolk bursts and the egg in your view is ruined by the fact it is so old and isn't perfect like Nigella's , did you ever stop to think that maybe they were just happy you were cooking them an egg ?

The harder I tried to make everything perfect, the more difficult it became to create the image of how I thought it should all be.

credit http://blog.williams-sonoma.com/simply-nigella-cookbook/

As much as I try I can only see that I missed all the little things that needed to be said or done and focused on what I thought should be done, so by that omission it was this that moved us apart. And it happened so quickly.

The most interesting thing that has come out of the contemplation and soul searching post the separation, is all the things you thought were important - aren't - and the little things that have always been there (but been taken for granted) are suddenly the most important thing.

But I can assure you that as devastated as I am, this is not a pity post nor a raised flag for sympathy. This is is just the state of play, it's the truth of where in 2017 I am. Still a Dad, still healthy and upright - just a different location and surroundings.

Along with new added challenges and a new operating reality we'll now need  to balance the boys between two houses, negotiate holidays, decide which family functions are mandatory attendance and the list goes on. But of course parental solidarity will still be mandatory, although a lot harder , but mandatory nonetheless to continue to allow the boys to continue to grow and mature.

My mantra for at least a little while is going to be, I'm not going to be angry at myself or get down and I will talk to friends and family. In the meantime its on wards and upwards as best we can.

Given its now been 3 years since I posted , it is well time to resume writing and stop procrastinating. It's also well time to do things I should have done and try things that should be tried ( except parachuting, there is never a valid reason to jump from a perfectly good plane with bar service).


And as the Blink 182 songs says

 Say it ain't so, I will not go Turn the lights off, carry me home

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........

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……..

Am I ready ? I mean really ready ?

As they all march on to the thin stage the spotlights make some of the boys blink and squint out in to the audience to try and see better / someone they know. They shuffle awkwardly and itch at inappropriate places, their bodies caught in that time that's almost changing them into teenagers but leaving their minds still filled with wild imagination fueled fun.
They literally have attention spans that can only be measured by the sorts of equipment required to build the Large Hadron Collider.

As they describe their experiences, in getting to this glorious point, I try hard not to allow my brain to take me back to the same era - Grade 6.
The eldest is going though the last remaining days of Primary School and there is lots of pomp and ceremony interspersed with good advice and re-assurances that support is around, you just have to ask.

Whom to ask and about what is not quite apparent -  but you get the idea.

School is not an easy place, its supposed to be the safest place to become correctly prepared for the world at large. Each child is raised carefully by a combination of the school and the parents with both complimenting each other.

Well that's the theory anyway.

I'm the last person to be preaching this, I was a terrible student. There are things I did at school that still can not be told in public because once it gets out or on the Internet it will get out of hand. I did not fulfill the true definition of school until much later in life.

But now that the eldest has completed junior school he apparently is ready for the next set of challenges.

What about his parents are they ready ?

When they are babies you look at them without worrying about  future problems - that will all come later. When they are babies their needs are simple (well that's how I choose to remember it)

Feeding - Burping - Cleaning up vomit - you get the idea.

The problems are solvable, Do we have enough nappies ? Do we have the house quiet enough for them to sleep ? Is it the middle of the night and do they need comforting ? Is the food in the baby or on the floor and wall ?

See ! All solvable.

Now that he's a teenager it changes.  I mean - I hope he can clean up his own vomit but that's the least of my worries.

Have I kept up with the latest trends ? Do I even know what's cool right now ?

Do I have a computer / console  that will play the latest games? nothing worse than having old technology apparently. And the fact that he has to share it with the rest of us constantly stuns him.

Have I or the beloved ensured he leaves the house dressed at  least semi decently ? No Son that tracksuit and top are not OK you look homeless. You have a wardrobe full of nice clothes , go and try again.

And no you can not eat last nights pasta/rice for breakfast (well not in front of your mother). You have to have a decent breakfast.

All these problems get easier to solve once you have seen them a few times but then - Unexpected ones arise as if he has decided the game is too repetitive and needs new boundaries.
It's like getting up in the middle of the night -  You know you are going to stub your toe , you just don't know when or on what.

So as they all march off the stage, their certificate grasped in their fists, I hope their parents are ready.....

It's fine he's 9 ish.....

This reminds me of the old days that seem so far away. Helping calm crying babies. Staying out of the way of crying babies, you get the picture.

I'm lucky. My kids are old enough now to :

1) get their own breakfast
2) not require round the clock surveillance attention.
3) manipulate articulate what they want

On the flip side they're old enough to probably burn down the house with a wayward piece of toast.

Anyway after recently attending an adolescent talk provided by the school, delivered to ensure we are appropriately terrified of the oldest sons future behaviours, I was fondly remembering all the fun we had when he was younger. Don't get me wrong he's still fun but just punctuated with random bouts of surly teenagerness (yes that is a word). It's like a little peek into what's ahead.

And I still have the little one ( 9 yrs old  trying to be 12) and thankfully he still needs me for all sorts of things. I did however notice that I kinda just do things for the little guy as if in some vain hope that he will just be always this way.

Whilst I'm supposed to be assisting him to begin to make decisions for himself, I'm just having trouble letting go right now.

So I'm off to tie his shoes laces and make sure his lunch is packed, because he is only 9 ish and he needs his Dad.

And no amount of comments will dissuade me otherwise.

As a Dad you're probably going through something simliar

I often sit and wonder why I'm the only Dad with challenges in raising my kids. I understand there's going to be challenges, that's what makes being a parent so great. But why all the other stuff ?

After all, I was a perfect child who never gave my parents a lick of trouble ever, so why  do mine ? *

image coutesy of themomsbuzz.com

Simple things like getting them to clean their rooms through to complex things like putting more effort into school assignments seemed to be a never ending source of debate  and discussion and you start to wonder  - I am even doing this right ?

And after having another heated discussion with The Eldest son about levels of effort in his homework, I was feeling pretty down. Some days just seem like a never evening military campaign to illuminate the locals and set them on the path of economic freedom. Let us win your hearts and minds or we'll burn your damn huts down, sort of thing.

I wasn't the greatest student so I want to ensure my kids don't make the same mistakes I made and I'm keen to not let them suffer through some past misadventures that I should have definitely have been warned about.

Now the Beloved and I are a fearsome team. We are absolutely on the same side when it comes to the minions. But sometimes being a Dad is kinda like being a light house keeper - You know your job is important, but you never really know if you are doing it right because it's just you.

So what to do ? Who do I talk to ? It's been previously discussed on this blog about the difficulties faced when meeting / talking to other Dads. You certainly don't want to go around exposing your issues to all and sundry.

And I can't talk to Grandpa on the Go about it. The issues he faced with me were different. Or is it just me wanting that to be the case - it's all too hard, so don't worry just keep going .

image courtesy of belleamiemotherofthree.com

What an eye opener it was when I accidentally had lunch one day with another Dad and he confessed to me about having an argument with his son. It was exactly the same argument over exactly the same piece of homework with his son that I had had with mine. We ended up chatting for the entire lunch about these challenges and swapping war stories.

And with that small piece of revelation I started asking questions at every opportunity. Listening and realising that we were all going through the same thing.

Too much {insert video game name here} not enough homework.

Arguing over Internet usage.

Getting them to do chores around the house. It went on.

I  like to see myself as a pretty easy going guy and I try not to be an overbearing Dad. But you have to teach (boys especially) that their are boundaries and limits. And now that I know we can't solve every challenge / crisis but at least there are other Dads with some advice or at the very least a sympathetic ear, I'm back on track.

So now I attend the dinners with other Dads. I'm even thinking about setting some up. And I listen and ask questions every time.

So let me give you one task to do this week - Go find another Dad with similar aged kids to yours and talk to them and even more importantly - Listen.

Who knows you might just be surprised.

* May not be accurate statement

Being a new Dad - the first years

I noticed that all of my posts thus far are about my semi-grown up kids and not so much about what it's like when they are first born / younger, which for a lot of you is probably going to be helpful information ( if you want to avoid the feeling of "what the hell am supposed to be doing" that I felt )

So I thought I'd reflect on some of what I went through ( over a couple of posts) and hope it helps. After all we look at Brittany Spears and marvel that if she can raise a kid whilst being completely nuts there's probably hope for us all.

I'm not going to bother with the birth because it seems everyone has a story to share and really there's not much you can do but be there, hold hands and marvel that later you can tell your wife that you saw the inside of her during the surgery to remove a stuck kid.

Its certainly nothing like the Lion King with everyone showing up to marvel the newborn with music and song. What actually happened was the doctor handed me the kid with his leg bent the other way and his foot facing the inside of his leg.

The doctored chuckled and said "that's how he was in the womb, look... " and proceeded to refold him like an accordian and then unfold him.

The next 20 mins were completely surreal as I was just standing there holding my son with absolutely no idea what to do so I did what  I always do when I'm stuck - I started to just talk to him. It's probably the only time he has ever listened completely.

Anyway eventually they let us take the kid home and I decided to go back to work straight after because there were too many women in the house and I felt so useless. I think it worked well as they eventually left and we could get down to the serious business of parenting.

Because it was winter we assumed that the house had to be warm so we heated it up. Oh boy, did we heat it up. Every heater was turned on.
The first heating bill was more than my salary as we kept the house so hot for the kid to avoid any issues. From then on we used blankets and clothes.

So time began to pass and I must of demonstrated some responsibility because I was told that I would be left on my own to manage the kid whilst a dinner was attended.
As you know she has always been organised so when I was finally left alone with him - there was a list.

All the things I had to do were laid out and the foods to feed him were in individual containers. So it's simple right ?

I put him for the first feed in the high chair and opened the container. Kiwi fruit , too easy.

I get the spoon put some fruit on and hand it to him. I turn around to do something else and then turn back to the kid

The spoon is clean.

Sweet. All good.

So I repeat.

5 minutes later and the bowl is empty. I am on fire here. All I need to do is wipe the excess fruit off his face now.

I felt a drop on my shoulder. I wipe at it and see that it's fruit. I look up.

Who new kiwifruit could get on the roof ? Who knew how hard it is to clean fruit off the roof ?

I'll leave you with one last thought.

Kids will learn routines and you will change.

The eldest was about two and quietly playing on the floor whilst we were heatedly discussing our finances. After a while we both looked around the room and we realized Chris was no longer with us in the room.

We started frantically looking around and found him standing by himself in the dark in his bed room waiting to be put to bed. He knew when to go to bed and we had completely missed it.

Both of us hung our heads in shame and we realized from that point on it was no longer just about us.

It was about our family.

So don't worry and definitely don't panic because after all you're not Brittany Spears-  you're a Dad !

Keeping up with the kids (a cautionary tale)

As the road rises to meet me, I am reminded of two irrefutable laws of this planet.

1) Gravity

2) You can't teach an old dog new tricks

So how did I end up here. Was it vanity  ?

No.

Was it stupidity ?

 No comment.

Image courtesy of berkeleymediatraining.co.uk

As I watch my sons grow into men, I have to remind my self that some of the things they will do / learn , they will have to do by themselves.

It is a natural instinct to try to simply tell them  " Hey don't do that because..."
We are parents first and people second. So I constantly have to try not to get in the way of learning. No matter how tempting it is.

But who will tell me ? Who will say "that's probably not a good idea ?"

Anyway back to the story. So here I am on a pavement in Melbourne, a brand new pair of jeans shredded. Blood trickling down my leg and my dignity no where to be seen.

All because I tried to keep up with the boys.

By trying to ride a scooter.

You know the type, the ones with little skateboard wheels and a thin platform to stand on.  The scooters were bought on line ( like a dad gift, that we all use) sort of like so we could get around to places faster and have some fun. I had just finished a delivering Older Son to choir practice and was returning home.

It had all gone well until now.

As I limped home the only real thought I'm entertaining is "how do I hide this from She who Knows best"

That's not going to be easy, the new jeans were a joint purchase on a recent trip to Sydney. The scab that was forming on my leg is sizable. Both will be hard to hide.

Once I have cleaned up I realize that I am 41 years old. I am not as nimble as I thought. I should not try am not going to be able to do all the things that the boys can do.  I ride and run regularly and try as best I can to keep in good health and I do this to keep up with my boys.

I do this because every day I see parents who just can't keep up with their kids and that makes me sad and spurs me on to not fall into this trap.

I love the fact that we run together. I love the fact that we play footy together and I will keep on trying to do all these things  until I draw my last breath (or my hip disintegrates into dust)

But it has become plainly and painfully obvious that there are now somethings I would like to do or think that I can do, that I will just have to pass on.


So I stuffed the jeans into the cupboard and put the bloodied tissues in the bin. I looked into the mirror and I said out loud " Well at least you didn't land on your face "

The next day it looked like this.

The School holidays (part 2)

As the car turns in to our street it hits home that the holiday is really over.  Finally we got a week (together ) of doing all the things we wanted to do as a family. We headed of to Nungurner (just near Metung) in the picturesque Gippsland Lakes region and got down to serious holidaying.

Went fishing with the boys and never caught a fish (did catch a seahorse -  but they're not that meaty, nor can you ride on them)

Played golf with the boys

Shaved 15 stokes of my golf game which is great because I was 100 now I'm at 85 ( for 9 holes) and I have managed to get down to only losing one or 5 balls per round.

Went for walks on the beach

and we even found road kill in the car park !

Invented a new toasted sandwich (yep those are cocktail franks and cheese)

and for a short while I was Dad on the Row 

Did some slightly faster water sports

Spent quality time with my family and really relaxed (and of course played UNO !)

As I unpacked the car I couldn't wipe the smile off my face. Not because the little dude was asleep. Not because I hadn't hurt myself doing anything dangerous. Not because we stopped the boys having an argument everyday at 0930 precisely after 3 days. 

but for the simple reason that we had now started to create our own memorable holidays.

What your kids won't tell you (caution may contain truth)

As the proud father of two boys,  aged 11 (going on 37) and 8, I often forget that kids see the world exactly as it is. They do this without the clutter of years of experience and learning that we as adults have and then apply to our perception.

Kids , well mine anyway, have an unflappable ability to see any situation far more clearly and simply than I could ever have imagined.

image courtesy of greenwoodpga.com

But, with that also comes another side to the coin, namely the truth and sometimes it will be truth you don't want out in the sunshine.
I don't mean kids are trying to be hurtful. Not at all, its just that sometimes the wind can be taken out of your sails far faster than you imagined.

Kids just don't dress up the truth, or engage in those little white lies that we as adults employ to preserve the feelings of others.

They just take this wonderful clarity and truth and pass it straight on to all and sundry !

"Hey Dad can I play with the big red ball in the bedroom"

"No mate, its Mums exercise ball"

"How do you know, she's never used it !"

"Hey Dad, we're going faster our our run today !"

"Maybe I'm getting fitter !"

"Nah there's just less people out today."

"Hey Johno ! Did you know my Dad once did a fart so huge he had to peel the doona off  the roof ? "

Another little gem is the eternal question " Hey Dad,  back in your day did ......"
What does back in my day even mean ? It's not like I've lived through a world war or anything significant like that.

Once again it's that simple clarity that the kids have and this time they used children time frames which are apparently very different to adults.

I'll never forget the time one of our friends family car pooled the eldest son home. They all got out of the car wiping tears out of their eyes. They saw me, stopped and calmly said  "So you're a pretty regular morning guy then ? " and all dissolved into fits of laughter.

Apparently it's OK to discuss my bodily functions and their timing in public. And yes I know in the post about boy humor and why it's different, I said it was funny but I meant about others, right ?

I think for a day I will  try talk to people just like the kids do. Straight to the point.

But not today.......

One day though.........

Why boy humor is different

The Family on the Go is a male dominant household. Three blokes in residence means the domestic goddess is going to struggle some days.

And before you all start yelling at me about how we should all help out and do our fair share, I'm talking about the stuff we find funny that she just doesn't get.

Boy humor does not appeal to women or girls for that matter. It's like they have a  filter pre-installed that, when hearing the joke or comment, automatically sets them to just look at us with a confused and slightly disgusted look.

image courtesy of realsimple.com

This woman may have just been subjected to a boy joke.*

So where do we start ?

Well firstly boys find everything to do with the body funny, from "why do we have nipples?" right through to bodily functions, which provides a substantial library to work from.

Nudity is next up, which is basically defined as any piece of flesh that is displayed by anyone other than people in your family. So for instance, the merest inference of the nether regions send us in to fits of giggles.

Eg  "Hey guys, why do squirrels only swim on their backs?"

"So they don't get their nuts wet!!"  Gales of laughter and high fives all round follow straight after.

Or the serious conversation after a parent teacher meeting, when the Goddess says " Your teacher is so impressed by your diction."

3...........2.........1........ and there it is - snigger's all round followed by

 "Hey , Hey I've got one - Dictators !", now its a full on race to see who can get the biggest laughs.

"Dictation !!"

"Dictionary !!" and on it goes.

I am sure that psychologists through the ages have analysed the male humor psyche and will have some deep and profound interpretation on what's happening and why at completely inappropriate times we will laugh. Quite frankly I just don't care.

I will laugh when the boys are told it's shower time and they get completely undressed right where they are standing and walk off to the shower.

And I fully reserve the right when someone passes wind, to yell " Carbon tax  !! "

I know that I'm supposed to be teaching the boys proper decorum, Grandma reminds me constantly, but the thing about life that I see is - Have a laugh when you can. You can't be too serious all the time.

Now if you don't mind I'm off to develop a joke about removing the cheeks from a mango.....



* This woman may not actually have heard the joke but just assumed we someone said something equally stupid.