'Manning-up' and being a 'real man'

Last Saturday I felt like a real man and 'manned-up'. Here are a few of the things that I did:

1.     Climbed a ladder to fix a light,

2.     Went for a run,

3.     Cooked steak on my BBQ while drinking a beer,

4.     Wore a check shirt all day,

5.     Used a screwdriver to fix something in my car.

However, these things (and many other manly things I did which I can’t recall or don’t think need mentioning now) are probably not the things that I think defined me most as a man on Saturday.

On Saturday night I had a massive cry. No – nobody punched me on the nose or kicked me in the groin. Nor did my footy team lose - I had to wait until Sunday morning for that to happen to the Wallabies.

No I cried over a book. In fact not even the ending of a book. I cried at the end of the fourth chapter and then really lost it to blubbing with the opening of the fifth. The book is Worse Things Happen at Sea by William McInnes and Sarah Watt which they wrote together just before her death from cancer in 2011.

What made me cry was not about her battle with cancer – I haven’t even got that far into the book. I cried when they told the story of their stillborn son Cosmo. I really, really cried (enough to wake up BWM) when Sarah started the fifth chapter with, “Our second baby was born, and he breathed. Then he cried.”

I experienced a similar moment reading during BWM’s pregnancy with H. I read Ernest Hemingway’s A Farewell to Arms and cried throughout the last pages at the death of mother and baby after their survival through the ravages of the First World War. It was powerful loneliness of the final sentence, “After a while I went out and left the hospital and walked back to the hotel in the rain,” which really reduced me to a blubbing mess.

When H was born all I wanted to hear was a baby crying. In fact it was only about 5 minutes after he was born, I think I’d even helped to cut the cord and I was holding my son that I realised he was my son and not my daughter. I had missed the whole, “Congratulations it’s a boy,” because I was so happy to hear him crying.

BWM and I have never been through the trauma of a stillborn birth and I it’s very difficult to comprehend the pain that occurs for people when this happens. Pregnancy is such an amazing thing that occurs in the female body. It’s something that we mere males never get to experience physically.

However, it is one that men go through emotionally. This probably makes it even harder for us as males because we like to be able to do something to ‘fix’ things. This is easier when there is a physical job to do rather than being something that needs to be dealt with through an emotional lens.

When BWM and I were first trying to start a family together we lost babies through miscarriage. These losses caused us both considerable sadness but this is slight compared to what some others experience in attempting to have children. As a male I could feel the sadness and disappointment that BWM felt in some respects. However, I never experienced the physical side that she did in the loss of these babies.  Dealing with the emotions of these required seeking assistance to help understand my own thoughts in sharing our loss.

Throughout BWM’s pregnancy with H both of us were somewhat anxious in waiting for how everything would turn out. Our anxieties were not fully assured until after we had undergone a battery of tests and counseling until the 15-week mark of the pregnancy. After that our Obstetrician would regularly say to us, “You’re backing a winner here. There’s no need to worry.” It’s a phrase he is already using with BWM again now that she has reached the same stage of our current pregnancy.

Now that I’m a dad with H I still feel the same anxieties that I went through when BWM was pregnant with him. I know there isn’t anything I can do physically during the next few months as we wait for the birth. It’s a time for controlling the emotional aspects of being a dad and husband and looking after BWM, H and our yet to be born child.

What am I looking forward to most in a physical sense now? It’s listening for that first cry. Once that happens I know there will still be some emotional things to deal with but I’ll be back in the game with the physical part too.

One thing I know that I know I’ll be doing with both H and his sibling – is reading great stories to them. It’s definitely not the last of McInnes and Hemingway that I’ll be reading. In fact I look forward to sharing these with my kids.  I think though I’ll start by reading Cricket Kings and The Old Man and the Sea to them. They’ll make me cry but not in the same way as those other books did and I think it’s good that kids see their dad cry – because it’s definitely part of 'manning-up' and being a real man.

Does madness skip a generation?

When you start writing a blog called Slightly Mad Dad then you probably have to question your own sanity at some stage. In fact I do that most days and remember that I have to be slightly mad to be doing what I’m doing!

Of course I get quite a bit of time to watch my son play and grow on a daily basis. This got me thinking about the saying “Madness skips a generation”, where it comes from and is it really true. I punched it into Google and came up with a large number of literary references. However, the top answer was from Answers.yahoo.com and went in to a few people talking about biological and environmental factors and perhaps some medical expertise. In a nutshell they said it was just a rumour! 

With my background as a primary school teacher I always tell my students to question everything they read on the internet. This is exactly what I have done in regards to the meager amount of information I could find through “my friend Google”. In fact I decided I needed to do my own observational studies of my son to see if, in his case, madness has actually skipped a generation.

Observation 1:

H thinks he’s a dog. If we see a dog in the street or in a book or on the television he calls out “Dog!” sticks his tongue out and starts to pant like a dog. It goes beyond this though. We recently visited friends who own three dogs. When we arrived at their house H got excited because he knew there would be dogs there. Upon arrival his first action was to scream to be let into the dogs’ pen. Once we accompanied him into the pen he pushed past two of the dogs (their third - a recently acquired rescue dog backed itself into a corner as a tiny whirlwind of a human advanced upon them) and knelt down in front of their water bowl and helped himself to a drink. What could I do but take my friend’s advice, “We worm them once a month.”

Observation 2:

I once went canyon swinging in New Zealand and being a primary school teacher I did it by sitting in a chair and tipping backwards over the edge. I thought that was a bit mad. H does this already! He sits in his high chair and pushes back from the table to swing on his chair. I found him the other day almost balanced on two legs laughing happily at his newly acquired skill.

Observation 3:

H and I recently spent four days staying with my parents. If it was going to skip a generation I wouldn’t be mad at all (sorry Mum and Dad but it’s true!).

Observation 4:

He mimics his father whenever he gets the opportunity. When I talk about personal grooming he copies what I do. When I say, “I’m brushing my teeth,” he pretends to do his too. If I go to have a shave he starts to rub the side of his face with his hands and make cooing noises. The same goes for combing my hair. The worst bit is if I stop he looks at me, raises his index finger like a cricket umpire and says, “One more!”

Ok – maybe he isn’t mad for doing this but getting mimicked drives me mad. I guess now I know how my Mum and Dad feel about my youth. In fact perhaps observations 3 and 4 say more about me?

Perhaps I’ve done nothing to add to the canon on this important subject of “Does madness skip a generation?” In fact all I’ve really said is I’m definitely a bit mad and my son is too. If I’ve turned out ok so far and I’m having a good time doing it then I’m looking forward to H continuing to be a little bit mad himself.

The Apocalypse of Uncooperativeness

Please, please, please don’t get me wrong. I love being a stay at home Dad and spending lots of time with H. However, there can occasionally be moments when frustration gets the better of me and I come close to losing my cool.

This happened on Tuesday when I nearly lost it with my son. He’s been sick for a few days with a cough and I’d taken him to the doctor the day before. They couldn’t really do much for his cough but they did find he had an ear infection. You can understand then that he’d had a few off days with temperatures, hadn’t been eating and also a couple of disturbed nights.

It was just after 4pm and he needed to have his nappy changed. I hadn’t counted but there had been a few multiples of two in his nappy already during the day. He was sick of having his bottom wiped and I was getting a little sick of doing it too.

It was here that the apocalypse of uncooperativeness began.

Firstly to even try and get his pants off he wouldn’t lie still and kept flipping over onto his hands and knees and then trying to stand up. When this happens I put on some music from a wind up music box and this usually soothes H. Today though – no deal.

Finally the pants were off and we were trying for the nappy. Again though the flipping onto all fours and trying to stand up occurred. The standing up part is ok when you’re trying to get pants off. However, when there is a nappy half off with toxic substances beginning to ooze from the side we have a problem.

If music hasn’t soothed him he quite likes having something in his hands to play with. He likes his nail clippers to play with – but they’d gone over the side of the changes table and bounced under the cot. Likewise his thermometer, gone over the side. His nappy cream, his nappies, soon joined these along with the baby wipes. All that was left was the hand sanitizer cowering in the far corner and a squirming, half-nappied baby trying his best to reach it. 

Finally the nappy was off and his bottom wiped just as the music box stopped and silence prevailed. It wasn’t as if he was being a screaming, crying mess throughout this event. H was giving dad the silent squirms.

I looked at H and said to him, “You’ve unleashed the apocalypse of uncooperativeness here today haven’t you!” Although it probably didn’t come out very clearly because you try saying, “Apocalypse of uncooperativeness,” when you’re trying to pin a squirming bundle of baby down.

Somehow, eventually, how I’m not sure I managed to get the nappy back on H. I do know that the last bit of velcro was attached as he attempted to catapult himself out of my arms. I wasn’t even going to worry about the shorts for a minute and I placed him on the floor. I didn’t want to deal with him for a moment because I was getting very close to losing my cool here.

Let the apocalypse continue though thought H because he picked his shorts up, held them up high and demanded they be put on. “Nooooooooooooo!” I screamed in silent despair. I knelt down to the floor and helped him into one leg of his shorts – thank goodness he was now being cooperative!

That was his point of needing to run again and off he shot around behind me, one leg in his shorts that were now trailing carelessly behind him. That was my point of really getting one step closer to the edge of losing my cool.

“Leave it,” I said to myself. “He’s safe and ok.”

I was close to the floor so I lay down and began to retrieve items that had bounced under his cot and change table. As I stretched as far as I could underneath I realised I had made a critical error of judgment.  Never, ever, ever put yourself in a prone position on your stomach when the apocalypse of uncooperativeness is being unleashed.

Two small hands found their way into the middle of my shoulder blades and in the next moment one leg swung over my body. I had now being unceremoniously mounted like a horse. Of course to make sure a horse is under full control a rider needs a bridle and it was here that the shorts came off the leg and over my head. It was also where the silent squirms ended and a peel of laughter erupted from H.

It was here that I finally lost it. No it was not the cool that I had been so close to losing only moments before.  I lost it in laughter with my son as we both realised his moment of triumph had come over his Dad.

I also grasped that the child who was doing this was not the little boy who a couple of days before had been clingy and miserable. It was a little boy who was starting to feel healthy again and wanting to play, his apocalypse of uncooperativeness was him showing me this in the only way he knew how.  

Let’s just say I was glad I only lost it in laughter because the next hour until dinner was high octane playing before some great eating and heading off to a full night’s sleep.

Holiday leads to digital divorce

We recently returned from an eight day holiday in Fiji. It was a wonderful time to spend with BWM and H. Being able to relax and spend time as a family along with friends who travelled with us was absolutely fantastic. To have two other families, both with young children, gave H plenty of others to play with as well.

The act of breaking the daily routines of home was quite therapeutic in many ways and H enjoyed the opportunity to get in the pool and run bare foot on the grass. It was great to see him play ‘kick a ball’ with his mate who is nearly 2 and generally see the connection that they formed over the course of trip.

Lounging by the pool under the shade of an umbrella it was lovely to pick up a book. During the trip I read Arianna Huffington’s book Thrive that looks at our connections in the everyday world as well as our digital ones. I found the ideas she was espousing quite interesting considering the issues that I was about to face.

However, it was the lack of connection to internet and telephone which was probably the best part of the whole holiday. BWM didn’t bring her phone with her and I was to be a point of contact via phone or email for her work if there were any major issues. Upon our arrival at the resort in Fiji I checked wifi availability and saw there was 24-hour free period. I decided to ignore It for now and take it up some time later in the week.

It was about 4 days into the trip and BWM asked me if there had been any emails. I replied that I hadn’t checked but later that afternoon logged on to the wifi for 24 hours free access. After checking email (nothing there) I then browsed a few stories on the web before going into my social media.

First up was checking Facebook. I initially thought that my timeline had not updated, as it seemed to be exactly the same as when we had left Sydney. However, upon closer examination it had updated – Facebook it seemed had selected the same stuff it thought I would like, ignoring the opportunity for me to see all my friends’ posts. In many ways it was like flicking on ‘The Bold and the Beautiful’ after not having seen it for months and you find the same two characters engaged in the same pouting stare off.

I checked email and the web again the next day under my 24 hour access pass. I again checked Facebook and again found my characters from ‘The Bold’ eagerly engaged in their stare off. Twitter had at least updated and I could read some news bulletins and links to information which I enjoyed reading.

After the 24 hours of wifi I got back into finding connections with my son and my wife as well as the friends with whom we were travelling. It was great not to worry about the phone in the pocket with its instant access to seemingly everything.

Yet later in the week the siren song of addiction called again and I discovered that I could get 24 hours free wifi again. I really wanted to find out how Arsenal went and also the results of a few French and South African rugby games that involved people I know. Facebook called me again and there were all these notifications blaring at me and messages from people which I couldn’t see unless I installed Facebook Messenger and…………….that’s it – Facebook you are no longer my friend!

I deleted Facebook off my phone. I still have an account though and all these emails came through the other day from Facebook telling me all the amazing stuff I’ve been missing out on.

I’m sure I’ll miss out on a few things that my friends in all the far-flung corners of the world post. I’ve friends in Europe, New Zealand, South Africa, Great Britain, North Queensland and even the Sutherland Shire to give an incomplete list. However, I know these people are friends with whom I have a connection and will keep in contact with through old-fashioned methods of communication - like email.

It’s been a week since I got rid of Facebook off my phone and I don’t feel like I’m missing out. There have been a few times I’ve reached for my phone to look at things but I’ve stopped myself and looked at my son instead. I guess I want him to see his Dad connecting with him as much as possible, not just connecting to the phone and a world he can’t yet see and understand.

To paraphrase the words of Arnold Schwarzenegger’s character to his wife in Total Recall, “Facebook – consider this a divorce!” Perhaps I’ll be back at some stage on the computer checking Facebook but for now I’m staying on a digital holiday I started during my physical one.

Postscript – I know it’s ironic that I’ve posted this on my Facebook page but if you want to comment on it please do so on the blog here or email me. That way I’m sure I’ll see it as I know I won’t be checking in on Facebook on my desktop quite so often.

Seeking Wallaby Heroes for my son

It’s a bit of a ritual in our house now that I play some music while my son has his dinner. As he was finishing his fruit I moved into the kitchen to pack a few things away. That was when I heard him scream - a scream like the one given off when Alderaan was destroyed by the dark side. I dropped everything and raced to my son as he choked upon his fruit.

I picked him up and immediately the kiwi fruit he had been chewing splurted out onto the black fleece jumper I was wearing. It was as if time stood still and the music of Split Enz and “History Never Repeats” washed over me from the speakers. The kiwi fruit stuck to the shoulder on my black fleece, my son sobbing in terror of what had just happened and my world became clear.

The time has come. This is Bledisloe time and I’m wearing black, feeding my son kiwi fruit and playing iconic New Zealand music. This has to stop. No longer should my 17-month-old son be fearful of the darkness. No longer should he cry because of men wearing black. No longer should kiwi fruit stick to the back of his throat but it is time for history to stop repeating.

It’s time for a new golden sunrise. It’s a time for the heroes in gold to arise and stop the ever-spreading darkness. I want my son to grow up in a world where the Wallabies are heroes. Where every boy and girl from 17 months to 17 years to 71 years of age can say they saw the resurrection of the Wallabies and the return of the Bledisloe to Australia.

I want his memories of Wallabies to great ones. I want him to talk about the events of 2014 as fondly as I mention Greg Cornelsen’s four tries (which co-incidently happened when I was about his age), about Topo Rodriguez’s try line tackle on Hika Reid which drove him back seemingly to the 22 metre line, George Gregan’s tackle on Wilson, John Eales slotting last minute penalty goals or the hand of Toutai.

I want all of these memories for him every season as we play the All Blacks. I don’t want them to be spread over 20 years. There’s a generation of Australian kids who need heroes in Wallaby gold to step forward over the next two weeks. I want him to one-day talk about the scrummaging of Slipper, the impact of Skelton, the dash of Hooper and the mongrel of Fardy. If this happens then he can talk about the vision of Beale, the dancing feet of Izzy or the way that AAC straightened through the hole. It’s not just these players it’s everyone else in the Wallaby team and all those of us who will be cheering them on this Saturday night.

It’s time for the Wallabies. In Star Wars once the scream of Alderaan had gone the side of light was able to triumph over the dark side. Sure, there were a few hiccups and three prequels about the how the dark side came to be that way. But we’ve seen them now and it’s time for the light side, the golden Wallabies to rise and return balance to the Bledisloe.