Making time work for me is a major challenge

I’ve been spending a lot of my commuting time lately thinking about the amount of time I spend with my kids, and how best to balance that against my requirement to provide for them, through making a success of my career and my personal self.

I should start by saying that I’m an ambitious person – I don’t want to simply do a job for 8 hours a day and for that to be the end of it.  I have nothing against people for whom that situation works – truth be told I envy it a little for its simplicity – but for me, I need more.  I need a career, with continuing opportunities to learn, grow and do and be more.  I need to feel as though I have a purpose and some control over how what that purpose might be.  The issue here, is how far I go with this drive, and still maintain the involved and close relationships I want with my children.

I love my current job, I really do.  After a couple of years of a job I knew had a shelf life and limits on how far I could go within that organisation (but still offered some valuable experience, it wasn’t all bad), I was fortunate enough to be approached about a new role with a bigger and more successful organisation within the same field.  It was the perfect opportunity for me and I was excited to take it on.

What it has meant though, is that I have spent a lot more time focussed on work, and indeed at work.  A by-product of being someone who wants to be successful is that you don’t simply clock-on, work and clock-off.  My hours now are longer and my time spent at home has reduced.  Where I once was leaving the house at 8am and returning about 5.45pm, I now leave about 7.15am and get back about 6.30pm – 7pm.  I often then have anywhere from 1 – 3 hours work which I do after dinner, and can thankfully do by remote connection to the office.  I choose to do that work that way so I can be home to have a bit of a muck-around with Leo and tuck him into bed.  Gus is too young yet to have a regular routine, so I see him every night when he wakes for a feed and we have a cuddle on the couch most evenings also.

On top of working longer and harder – in a job I love and with a company I can see a strong future and opportunities with – I’m also trying to do a couple of uni subjects each semester, including this one.  I have 6 units to go before I finally finish the qualification I started 9 years ago, and have been doing part-time by correspondence for the last 5.  To do this effectively, I’ve been trying to spend one evening a week in the library after work, but what it means is that I don’t get to see my boys that night, and potentially not see them awake for 36 hours.  I don’t like that, and often I choose being at home over studying, to the detriment of my study success.

It’s fair to say that I am battling a little with what kind of father I can be – one who is home a lot more but enjoys work less, or one who enjoys his work and is successful, but spends less time at home than he’d like.  In the tradition of those who do try and eat the cake they have, I am going to try and chart a middle road – being home most nights, but working hard and studying hard in the time I am away from home.  It sounds easy, but it isn’t, and I haven’t yet made it work.

I need to get the career vs. home life balance working a bit better before the boys are at an age where they acknowledge and remember absence more than they do now.  It’s going to be tough, but I am determined to make it work.

Injured children break the hardest of hearts

We’ve had a tough week with Leo.  It was one in which the unexplained injuries of childhood first reared their head – our son lost the use of his left leg, without explanation.

We first noticed something was amiss last weekend, when Leo was limping ever so slightly, on occasions.  It wasn’t all the time, an he almost seemed to be walking on the ball of his foot for the fun of it and wasn’t wincing, so we didn’t think too much of it.

After his midday nap on Sunday, his leg was a little unresponsive and we thought he’d slept on it funny, and it came good after a little while.  On Tuesday morning though, as I was getting in to a solid day’s work, I got a call that made my heart stop: my wife told me that Leo couldn’t walk, and was sitting on the floor of his room, crying.

I bit my lip to stop my own tears, and my wife said she’d call the doctors immediately and have him seen as soon as possible.  Leo was due to go to daycare that day, and that was quickly scotched, of course.  I sat at my desk the next couple of hours, waiting for the call that would hopefully have some answers about this leg of our son’s.

When my wife called, it was good news, but vague news.  The doctor had given Leo a thorough going-over, testing all areas of his body that connect with the leg, and moving all the bones and joints in the area.  Nothing had jumped out as being the cause, there were no bruises or cuts anywhere and Leo didn’t wince in pain at all.  There was nothing that could explain his being unable to walk on his leg.  The doctor’s advice was to see how things went on Friday and come back if there was no improvement.

As the next couple of days went passed, Leo still wasn’t walking and reverted to crawling everywhere.  It was good that he didn’t seem to be in any pain, but not knowing what the cause of the injury was no fun.

Mothers group, his cousin’s birthday party and days at home with his mother all passed, with our boy unable to walk about freely and forced to crawl around.  In this type of situation you can’t help but let your mind wander, and you run through all the possible scenarios.  I was remembering stories of children from Good Friday Appeal telecasts, who’d had tumours in their body they didn’t know about it, and other kids who’d lost the use of limbs because of spider bites.  It was all I could do not to burst into tears each time I saw him crawl along.  What kept me in check was his spirit – he didn’t show any pain at all, and his bright, wide smile was as present as ever.

As it got to Friday, my wife resolved to spend as much of the next day as she needed to, going to whatever doctors’ clinic she needed to in order get answers.  It was quite endearing to see her inner mother lioness get tough – she’s a great mother and in tough times she is at her best.

I headed in to work and set about busying myself to avoid my mind wandering.  I got the first call an hour into the day, and the report was that Leo was checked again by the doctor and again, there were no signs pointing to the reasons for his leg not bearing up.  They had done an x-ray, and nothing showed up.  Good news.  Leo was off to have an ultrasound now, which would show any potential inflammation or damage from a virus or infection around any joints.

An hour later, and the next call – nothing came up on the ultrasound.  That meant no virus or infection.  The outcome of the morning’s adventures was that there was still no solid explanation for Leo’s sore leg.  The doctor’s parting advice was to monitor things over the weekend, as it was likely a sprain or muscle soreness and things should pick up soon.  If nothing had improved over the weekend, Leo was to be taken in to the Children’s Hospital for blood and more new tests.  We want to avoid that place at all costs, so we hoped things would improve.

As we woke on Saturday, we noticed Leo putting a little weight on his sore leg, not much, but more than he had been able to for the best part of a week.  We had swimming class that morning, so we headed off and hoped the water workout would also help.  One of the things we do at class is to run across a floating mat and jump off the edge, into the water.  Leo was able to stand up, but not run along, so he crawled.  He was stoic though, and kept smiling and enjoyed his swim.

As we got changed afterward, he walked around some more and was able to stand.  He had a limp as he moved, but it was still weight-bearing movement and that was all we needed.  Later in the afternoon, he rested his leg a bit and crawled where he could.  We didn’t worry too much, thinking he might have overdone things and just needed a break.

As Sunday dawned, Leo was pretty much back to normal – he had the slightest of limps, but that was it.  The day passed and he began to get more confident and it was clear he was almost completely recovered.  We heaved a huge sigh of relief, of course!

Now, another week on, Leo’s leg is all fine.  He’s walking and darting around like nothing ever happened, and his mother and I couldn’t be happier.  We don’t know what was actually wrong with him, but we can only guess it was a muscle strain or  joint sprain, that took a week to heal.  Seeing our boy play happily and walk around without a care in the world again is a very sweet thing.

It’s time for a confession – I am quite behind on content for this little website and no matter how much I keep putting sticky notes around my desk, I won’t ever find a full day where I can write solidly and catch up on everything.

So here’s my plan at restoring things to up-to-date goodness…

I have been keeping little notes about things that have happened along the way of my fatherhood roller-coaster ride. I just need to flesh out my scribbles and convert them into blog entries. It won’t be too hard, as I am one of those bizarro types that seems to remember exactly how I felt on days of significance and I carry that feeling around with me.

For example, I can still remember the feeling of pride when as a five year old, I showed my terminally-ill Poppy how I could jump over the gap between the garden beds in his backyard.

I can still remember the smell of the varnish and the smile it gave me, when I first walked into my Nanna’s coffee shop for the first time.

And I can still remember the exact keyring I smashed on the floor when I came home and learned my father had died. I am an idiot savant for emotion and irrelevant detail. So I will be perfectly fine to post-event write-up my notes of daddy life :)

So back to what I am going to do:

I promise, here and now, to leave this post up front and on show, until I am up to date. To make sure I keep myself honest (and you can too by leaving comments of prodding and nudging), this entry will be dated today, while all others will be back-dated to when they happened. This means that this entry will sit at the top of this website until I catch up to date. No hiding from my promise now! Google will cache it and I will be forever held to account on my daddy diaries ;)

You may have noticed that I’ve changed the look of this site slightly. I plan on doing some more tinkering and polishing around the edges, to build the website I’d always hoped for, and less of a mere blog.

If you have any suggestions about things you’d like to see, about fatherhood, parenting, being a man in a modern world, or the Carlton Football Club, let me know and I’ll spend some time on making it happen.

x

6 month birthday!

Our boy was born 6 months ago today. What an amazing time it has been.

6 months… it’s gone so quick, and in other ways, feel like it’s been a long time coming. When I think back to the experiences and challenges we’ve faced, it seems a little implausible that they’re all crammed into a 6 month period. But they are, and here we are.

I really struggle, sometimes, to process the fact that I am a husband and a father. I’m not sure if other men feel this way, but I really do have to make a conscious effort sometimes to acknowledge the achievements of the past few years. Not so long ago it all seemed so out of reach and not something I’d get to experience. Thankfully, all is well and I am very proud to have such a wonderful wife and a beautiful son. I can’t wait for the birthdays to unfold, and for us to start shaping a book of family experiences and memories.

We marked today’s milestone by going down by the lake and putting a candle on a cupcake. My wife and I sang happy birthday while the little lad sat there and looked a little bemused. He enjoyed the cake though, but then he enjoys most foods that aren’t mush.

We’ve already started to think about what we’ll do for his first birthday. At this stage we’re thinking of a BBQ, or perhaps a picnic. There are some lovely spots around and with any luck the weather will be warming up a bit by the time September rolls around.

I am off now to tuck my son in and give him a kiss on the cheek :)

"Mummy!"

Leo said his first word this morning, unexpectedly really; it caught us off guard. He was in his cot and his mother was tidying up his room a bit and he wanted to be picked up, when all of a sudden he came out with, “Mum”!

I was in the hallway and my wife yelled out to me to come in. I ran into the room and we both looked at each other in a bit of shock, and then at him. Leo was all cool and didn’t seem to realise the significance of it all. After a bit of coaxing, he said it another couple of times and we cheered him on. He liked that and gave a big grin.

Whilst this was unexpected, he has been making more noises of late and ‘talking’ a lot more. What was unexpected was it happening now, and him saying ‘Mum’. There’d been no practising of the ‘m’ noise at all, it just popped out.

I’m not at all offended at ‘Dad; not being his first word, doesn’t phase me at all. But I will be offering assistance at it being second word!

Mushy baby food is now on the menu

Another first – our boy is now eating some real food! He had his first real experience with food (mushed, of course) last night and loved it.

I was pretty proud to see this, a first step towards becoming a ‘big boy’, as they say in the classics.

There’s been quite a bit of discussion amongst us and relatives who’ve had babies before (either this generation or previously), about when is best to start feeding babies some food.

We were told by our midwife and maternal health nurse that 6 months is the age you start them on some pureed food. Those older than us say 4 months is best. And some who’ve had kids in the past few years say anywhere between 4-6 months. Given we’re talking about an extra 50% of our child’s life to date, we opted to go with the advice of those who were looking after our baby’s welfare and needs – the maternal health nurse & midwife.

This isn’t the first time that everyone’s been offering us heaps of different advice, with varying declarations of “what they did”. I’m beginning to discover that every parent does the best job they can at the time, and things are different for almost every baby.

It’s been a good realisation, as there’s a heck of a lot of pressure that you feel, from others and yourself, to look after tour baby properly and prove yourselves as responsible. I’m not suggesting anyone thought we weren’t up to it (my wife and I both have pretty good heads on our shoulders) but gentle ‘bits of advice’ can and do grate after a while, especially when you’ve addressed the issue with that person already…

But back to our boy and his food…

We waited until now, a week shy of his 6 month birthday, and gave him his first taste.

My wife peeled, cut up, boiled and then pureed some sweet potato and offered him a couple of spoons of it. The lad took it in, scrunched his face up and the sensation and then swallowed nice and easily! He seemed to really like it, and had another spoon of it, before he was full. Not being used to solid food, his stomach is small and he couldn’t eat a whole lot.

But seeing it happen fairly smoothly means we can start to give him some pureed vegetables with his dinner bottle, and gradually build up his stomach, tolerance and food palate – and if he’s anything like his father, he’ll never look back!

My wife has already made plans to buy a heap of vegetables and puree them in bulk, and freezing little containers. She’s in her element!

I only remember one of my great-grandparents, my Grandpa’s father. I recall visiting him at a nursing home in Stawell when I was about 8, on a day trip with my grandparents.

My great-grandfather was in his late 80s at this stage and Alzheimer’s had set in. He didn’t know who we were and the whole visit was a bit boring, if I’m terribly honest: neither of us knew the other and that wasn’t about to change. He died a year or so later and his funeral was held on my birthday. That’s basically all I ever experienced directly with my great-grandparents.

Fortunately, our little lad was born with 4 surviving great-grandparents – two on my side and two on my wife’s. Those on my side live in Warrnambool and while both had met their newest descendant, he hadn’t yet been to the town I also spent the first 9 years of my life in, so we planned a weekend away to show him off.

My wife and I took a long weekend off so it wasn’t just an overnight trip. Warrnambool is about 3.5 hours away so driving down one day and back the next doesn’t leave a whole lot of time, so we took the extra day.

We arranged beforehand to stay with my great-grandfather (Mum’s dad) at his place in Koroit. We asked him a few weeks earlier if it was ok and he was pretty chuffed about it. My mother told me that in the lead-up to us staying, he pulled out the old cot we slept in as kids and gave it a coat of paint and replaced the mattress! Quite a proud great-grandparent.

We timed our departure to align with the time between feeds. The lad is on a 3-hour cycle, so we hoped the comfort of the car would let us stretch out the time and not have to stop for a top-up on the way… We got to about 20 minutes away and he started crying! We managed to console him until we reached my grandfather’s though, and rushed in to give a quick bottle.

Grandpa was pretty excited to have us, it was clear to see. The house was spotlessly clean and the temperature nice and comfy – like a hotel, really! He showed us to our room and helped me carry the bags. After the lad was finished his bottle, Grandpa offered us lunch. He’d set up a buffet of chicken & salad to make sandwiches; it was all quite nice of him really.

We spent that day with him, just enjoying a quiet afternoon together and watching Leo crawling around a whole new lounge room of fun. That night, my aunty was visiting as well and we had a quiet dinner and headed to bed early.

The next day, Sunday, we headed into town. After having a coffee in a nice little place, we drove around the town a bit. This is the place where I lived until I was 9, and I’d been back quite regularly since, at least every couple of years or so. It is always nice to see what’s changed and what’s stayed the same.

There was one thing on this trip though that I had been a bit anxious about – visiting the cemetery and ‘introducing’ my son to my late father. We pulled up and I walked over to his grave on my own at first, and tidied it up a bit. I then carried my boy over and made the most surreal and sad introduction I think I’ll ever make. Needless to say, it wasn’t very fun. Another reminder of the now-distant role that my father had in my life and the completely non-existent role he will have in that of my family. But we move on, don’t we…?

Lunch was at my father’s mother, my Nanna. I always look forward to seeing Nanna, she has a wicked sense of humour and makes a mean Pavlova Roll: two major ticks in my book! We enjoyed another lazy afternoon of food, conversation and laughs, with another aunty and uncle dropping in as well. A great afternoon.

We then headed back to Grandpa’s and made it in time for the dinner he’d cooked. After dinner was another cemetery introduction, the lad’s great-grandmother, my grandma. They missed meeting each other by about 10 months, which is a real shame, as my grandma would have loved him – a redheaded boy, just like her Irish side of the family. Whilst still a bit sad, I felt a lot happier at this introduction, like I was showing off our boy. One thing we did notice was the names on the gravestones: a lot of the men, who’d been born in the 1920s, were named ‘Leo’! We took note of a few names that will go on the shortlist for any future children.

That evening everyone else went to bed quite early, but I was wide awake. I sat up in my grandma’s chair, reading a book from her overcrowded bookshelves, and took in the quiet solitude of it all. I got to thinking about what the future might hold for my family – where we might live, what events and changes would happen that we aren’t yet aware of, what our kids will be like and whether they’ll move away from their home town just as I did, and lose some of the day-to-day involvement in their parents lives? I went to bed before I started getting too far off in the clouds, as can happen sometimes!

The next day was a quick morning visit to my grandma’s brother and his wife, who were absolutely lovely and happy to see us. After a coffee and catch-up, we hit the road and headed home. The lad slept the whole way this time, all tired from a weekend of making people laugh and smile.

Everyone who spent some time with Leo commented on what a lovely boy he is, and while I agree, it’s nice to hear it from others. He is a great kid and I’m proud of him.

He’s lucky to have some great-grandparents around and I’m glad they are getting to spend some decent time with him, makes me proud to show off what my wife and I have achieved. We took plenty of photos and plan to make a similar trip again later this year and try making it a regular thing.

I’ll be honest here and confess to some naivete: I hadn’t expected any medical issues to come up at all for our son.

Once he was born and everything was fine, I presumed he’d be fine forever. Not sure where my common sense went, but it soon came back.

Our boy has had two little things that needed some attention:

Tongue-tie
As I mentioned in an earlier post, our son had a tongue-tie. This stopped him from being able to extend his tongue all the way and limited his ability to feed properly. It meant that his mother’s body never knew the full amount of breast milk to produce and so we had to top him up with bottles from the beginning. It’s turned out a blessing in disguide though, as he’s used to both bottles and breast milk, so feeding isn’t the obstacle it is for some.

To rectify the tongue-tie, he had a small snip made to the skin flap joining the tongue and floor of his mouth. It only bled a drop and healed quickly and cleanly. To look at him now, you’d never know he had it done and his tongue is fine!

Belly-button
As the lad’s belly-button healed, it became clear that a little bit of it was poking out further than it should.
Basically, he had a slightly long ‘outtie’ that should have healed a bit more cleanly. The doctor said fixing it was simple and just involved burning the end off with a hot ‘rod’ of sorts. I was a bit worried he’d be burned or have a tough little nub on his belly, but everything so far has gone smoothly, so I maintained the faith and we had it done.

It burnt away the excess dead skin lump and left a bit of a brown mark, but that faded away over a few days and he looks fine now. Phew!

I hadn’t factored in the medical hurdles that are a part of growing up, for some reason. These two (small) things are cleared up now and all went well. Touch wood, it’s the only things that will happen in Leo’s lifetime and he’ll grow up safe and sound!

But if not, I know now that things can be fixed easily enough and that the real issue is whether I can learn to accept my kids will probably hurt themselves as they grow up. I’m such a sap, I think I need to toughen up!

A milestone this past weekend… Leo rolled over for the first time!

The achievement had been on the cards for a while. Over the past few weeks, he has been wobbling himself about and getting a little frustrated when things didn’t end up with him on his tummy! We’ve had the camera and video camera close by and grabbed it quickly a few times to try and capture the moment.

In the end, he did it so quickly that we missed recording it! His mother saw the occasion and called out for me to come and see (I was in another room). I ran in quickly and after a couple of minutes of coaxing, he did it again and we got it on film this time.

We both cheered and clapped so enthusiastically I think we might have given him a bit of a startle… pushy parents already!

Was a very proud moment for all of us and has given a taste of things to come – so many more firsts we have ahead of us.

I should begin this entry by stating that my wife didn’t have much time off work after our boy was born, not in the true sense of the phrase anyway. She had a month or so where she didn’t work, but after that she began checking work emails, making follow-up calls and then pretty soon she was doing a day a week. She never planned to do the whole ‘year off’ thing afterward anyway, so it wasn’t a great surprise.

She’s just returned to full-time work recently. Leo is 4 months old now, and is booked in to daycare from 6 months. In the interim, he gets to spend some time with his Nan! She’s taken 7 weeks long service leave and will mind Leo 3-4 days a week while his Mum goes to work.

The other day will be when I have him on the weekend, which kind of works nicely.

These 7 weeks with his Nan will be lovely. She’s really looking forward to some time with him and he’ll get a lot out of it as well. He may not remember these days later on, but I think there’s a definite unconscious bond that babies form with people before they can form memories, and this bond will be a really nice one for both our boy and my wife’s mother.

Grandmothers are very special people and our son has done well!