24 posts tagged “the dadstuff diaries”

Well, it does say "occasional missives" up beneath the title there.  Here she is, our new baby girl born last week and whom as of last night I've started calling "Songbird" for little reason.  Well, gut instinct is saying she'll be a singer (and it was right about having a girl) so that's maybe reason enough.

Songbird

And, of course, we also have a very proud big brother:

The Boy and the Songbird

Birth went pretty well, albeit long.  She's sleeping and feeding well and has already put on a bit of weight in very little time indeed.  The whole birth experience plus the aftermath has pretty much been the polar opposite of what happened with The Boy so we're feeling quite lucky.  Yeah, lucky.  Blessed, even.  We have a daughter now.

In other news, I finished my post-grad study and, after a bit of Harry Potteresque flourishes of legal terms like "mandamus!", "certiorari!" and "government contractualist trends as they relate to welfare and employment services!" have now settled in to having my weekends free again.  I've also started a new job, which is quite, quite different to my old job, thereby presenting new challenges and fields of experience.  Which is largely why I took it so excuse me while I go and get a can of HTFU and not sook about it.

Could be another month before I post depending on whims and fancies.  Might write about whisky sometime, I've just started on a bottle of 10yr old Ardbeg and my, it's quite heavenly.  For what it's worth I would like to assure my neighbours - esp. Cat, Snowy, Peter, NDC, Ninj, Ellie and Emu - that I continue to read your posts with interest. 

New jumper with dinner

K found out yesterday that her blood pressure's gone back up, after being pretty normal throughout her pregnancy, so the anxiety levels - despite our better efforts - have inevitably gone up as well.  Tomorrow marks the same stage she was at when this guy here <- showed up (6 weeks before the due date) so it wasn't like we didn't have it on our minds already, as we inevitably replay the events of that day and recall some of the minor traumas associated with it.

K's finishing up at work this week which means that she should be able to put her feet up, though there's still a lot of preparation to do for the new arrival.  In the meantime, I'm still slogging away at this last, last piece of assessment I have to do for the Masters.  So much reading to get through still, have to finish it this week before typing all the notes up into a structure and then writing the damned thing As Soon As Possible. 

It's my own fault though - I want to learn which means that I tend to cast a pretty wide net with my research.  It helps me to get the most out of the course but, still, it isn't the best thing to be dealing with at the moment.

And to top it all off I'll be starting a new job at the beginning of next month, so I have to try and tidy everything up at work and then hit the ground running at the new place.  Which will be doubly interesting as it's in an area I've had nothing to do with before, so I'll be relying on raw ability to get across all the new stuff as quickly as I can.  Things sort of came in a rush where I had several opportunities present themselves but I went with the first option available to me, which takes me out of where I am now (which I really, really need) and gives me some more challenges and, hopefully, a bit more professional development in the areas I need it.

The other thing is that aside from being a new job, it'll also represent the end of my role as the primary carer (I'll be going full-time while K stays at home).  Well, maybe not an end, but an evolution.  It's coming up to a year and three quarters since I started being the full-time stay at home parent followed by going back to work part-time last October. 

It hasn't been easy, what with all the colds caught from The Boy via daycare, not to mention trying to manage work expectations when I returned (the bitter experience of which contributed to my desire to leave), but I think we've muddled through it ok.  The evidence, I hope, presents itself in the grin above.  It's the parental prerogative to say so, but he's a charming and funny wee lad that one. 

One day, when he's older, I'll get to talk to him about what it was like when he was at home with me.  About the long neighbourhood walks for his afternoon sleeps at the beginning, about watching play school together, having him on my lap and playing piano, or guitar, or tickle-fu, or hidey.  About the shouts of joy when his mum walked through the door into a house full of cooking smells, of him standing on a chair and watching Betty-Sue (our most excellent mixer for those of you who don't remember) do her thing as I made biscuits, bread or pulla.  

I wish the experience for all fathers, really, though naturally I'm cognisant of why that isn't possible for the vast majority of men.  I tend to think about it as a gender issue I guess - the broader lack of pay parity for women means that it isn't financially viable for most families for the father to take time away from the workplace, which in turn puts the responsibility upon women, which in turn arguably contributes to a lack of pay parity.  It's only been in the past couple of years, just based on what I've seen, that situations like mine have become frequent enough to receive broader comment in the media.

But hey, I'd be fooling myself (and lying to you) if I stood on a pedestal and said "I am doing this solely for the greater good".  I wanted an experience denied to my own father.  I wanted to be a part of my child's life in real, everyday ways.  It looks like I won't really get the opportunity to take a similar period off with no. 2 (as K's indicated that she would prefer to return part-time after the end of her mat leave) but that's ok.  We'll work it out as we go - 'cos what else are you going to do?

Ready to go

Had one of these great sort of, I don't know, "generation x parenting moments" the other night.  The Boy and I have been taken with the idea playing both real and air guitar on a semi-regular basis, to the point where he's so keen that I'm thinking I'll have to get him a half-sized nylon stringed acoustic for him when he's just a bit bigger. 

Which means we'll probably end up having a surly teenager playing old Cure covers in his bedroom on a beaten up electric guitar but, hey, I can probably live with that.

So I found a bunch of old cassettes the other day while I was packing up a bunch of stuff to go under the house (making room for no. 2 given that we're into the final trimester now) and among them was the first REM album I ever bought, Document.  What a great set of songs.  Marked, of course, by It's the End of the World As We Know It (and I feel fine). 

I only have to reach up to the little stereo perched on top of the kitchen cupboards for monster-moo here to start shouting "air guitar! air guitar!" excitedly, I fast forward to the right spot, turn up the volume, press play and from the opening drum riff we're both leaping and jumping around the kitchen like maniacs.  This is A Good Thing.  Here's the clip:   

Bleh bleh bleh.  All I wanted to do was to change the banner photo but had to change the colour scheme as well so now it's all pale bluish titles and whatnot after a good 20 mins or so of mucking around with the thing.

Anyway.  This is merely an excuse to share a couple of photos.  Here's that boy of mine apparently experiencing one of those excellent rock zen moments:

Gee-tar

...and here's one where he is mistaking yoghurt for sunscreen:

Boy with yoghurt

Oh my, and so the days are filled.

I've heard a lot about the "terrible twos" but so far - touch wood and all (knocking my noggin, naturally, as I say so) - we appear to have been relatively unscathed as he comes up to the two and a half year mark.  I mean, sure, he throws tantrums and acts contrarily at times, but we seem to be dealing with that ok.  Hearing about a nephew who's having "trouble with boundaries", noting that the information comes from my dear old ma who, admittedly, may be prone to exaggeration about such things given her forthright opinions on the matter of childrearing in the manner of grandmothers everywhere, means that K and I are paying more attention of late to achieving some degree of consistency in what may be laughingly called discipline (I say "laughingly" only in comparison to the smacks, wooden spoons and fly swatters (seriously people, she used a frickin' fly swatter) of my youth).

[Pause, reflect for but a moment.  My, what a sentence that was.]

And, thankfully, we are consistent, though it looks like I'm "bad cop" more often than not.  Which is ok, as the fact is my cranky glare is something I've worked on since I was about 12 years of age (for reasons I'll explain another time) and I'm happy to see it working so very effectively.

But, sheesh, he really is a lovely boy.  He considers things, like he thinks about the situation and decides on a course of action and then goes for it, in contrast to those kids you see who just throw themselves into absolutely everything on a mere whimsy at best. 

He sings, like all children, without any self-consciousness, treating me this afternoon to his rendition of The Wiggles' Big Red Car while sitting on my lap at the piano, with me, trying to work out a swing version of Goin' Out West by Tom Waits as he plays around my hands on the keys. 

And every day brings a new articulation, a new descriptor of what he's got going on.  I remember once being struck by something that David wrote about how his son became a source of information and how that changed the way he considered their relationship. 

I'm not sure that I've yet experienced a similar epiphany.  But I'm paying attention, I truly am.  Tomorrow we'll fire up Betty-Sue to make some more pulla while a couple of the old mother's group ladies are around with their little ones, we'll catch up and talk about mumstuff and dadstuff, and how tall R is and how little S has the cutest curls and how amazingly articulate A is, and they'll run around and chase the cats and generally be a crack up and I'll watch, I'll laugh, and I'll mentally save any embarrassing bits for a 21st speech, or a wedding speech, or for telling colleagues at work the next day.

Thing is, I decided that I was ready for kids when I worked out that it really didn't matter what changes I could make in a broader policy or political sense.  I figured that maybe the best thing I could do was to have one or two kids and raise 'em right.  So, you know, it's a work in progress, but I never, ever, thought that daddy-fu would be so satisfying. 

Asleep where he is

Right, so I'll try not to swear so much this time, I promise. 

These two photos were taken about an hour ago, just as I was about to start making his lunch.  Been a bit tricky the past day or so, after Sunday pancakes yesterday morning (which is rapidly becoming a traditional thing in our little household) he got hit up with a bit of gastro and he found it distressing as he couldn't remember vomiting as an infant.

Geez, imagine the experience of vomiting for the first time?  No wonder he was unhappy. 

So after a day of holding buckets and cleaning and laundering and showering I expect he's still tired from the whole experience, hence why he's sort of just gone to sleep where he is rather than make the effort to hop into bed.  I'm hoping he'll be down for another hour and a half at least, giving me the opportunity to write this as well as log into work for a bit from home.  Yes, I'm an idiot - especially because I've notionally got the rest of the week off work to attend a uni subject.

Asleep where he is 2

I'd like to talk briefly about the experience we've had with childcare.  Basically it's been really, really good.  About three months before I was due to return to work I came to understand that The Boy kind of needed more than I was able to give him, in a developmental sense.  And childcare has been able to provide that. 

Thanks to my wife's foresight and insistence we had him on a few waiting lists from about the time she was six months' pregnant, which meant that we sort of had a choice when it came time for enrolment.  Having said that, one joint stuffed up the paperwork which meant that we had to go with the other, but it then worked out perfectly well as we felt it was a better environment anyway. 

Since he's been there his social and language skills have really picked up and overall he seems to enjoy his time there.  It's a bit tricky in the mornings when I drop him off but thankfully the staff are attentive and more than able to take him away from clutching my leg and onto something much more interesting.  The daily interaction with the staff helps a lot as well, talking about things like toilet-training (at his own pace is best), socialisation with the other kids (he's been a bitee twice but thankfully never the biter), that sort of stuff.  Heck, I'm even getting to know his classmates by name now.

My wife and I have been talking about it all further and have decided to keep him at daycare for at least two days per week while she's at home for the first year with no. 2. It'll be a bit tricky financially but it feels like it's the best thing to do for the both of them.

I'd like to find a way to link this musing further to the report of the Productivity Commission about paid maternity leave which is due any day now.  I know my wife has been *this* close to engaging in arguments about it at forums like Essential Baby etc, which means she really does feel strongly about it all given the obvious futility of arguing on the internet (case in point - our old misogynist friend Ted West). 

But I'm finding it hard to succinctly state my position - I'm in favour of paid maternity leave but can't articulately state all the reasons why.  Maybe after the report comes out I'll have more to say. 

Another day at the office

Gee I love this photo.  Sort of needs a caption competition, doesn't it?  Suggestions in the comments field are welcomed.

So anyhoo, it's been up near five months now since I returned to work, initially for three days per week and then four days per week from the new year onwards. 

Here's the thing about part-time - it doesn't matter how enlightened your work area is supposed to be, most of the time it seems like you're doing them a massive fucking disservice by not being there the full five days per week. 

I've got no problem with working hard, not at all, in fact it's hard for me to know any differently having worked my arse off (seriously, there's nothing there now) since I was legally able to (14 years and 9 months, sent to do nightfill at a local supermarket by my parents).  But the 60% attendance equalling a 90% workload expectation was a bit bloody unreasonable.

And building it up to 80% attendance didn't help much either, as attested by the five hours I put in yesterday (Sunday) and the regular hour or so every Monday using remote access once the boy's gone down to sleep.

It was also interesting to see the whole "you're only as good as your last game, and your last game was ages ago" attitude upon getting back.  I had felt as though I'd done enough back before leaving to justify a certain degree of professional respect, but instead I came up against this expectation that my absence meant I'd somehow gotten dumber while I was away (and pointing out my continuation of postgrad study while I was away barely mitigated it).  I constantly got asked about whether I felt ready to return, whether I thought I'd forgotten anything or had somehow miraculously lost the ability to, I dunno, type or something.

Honestly Mothers of Australia, I don't blame you for not wanting to put up this sort of shit once you get back to work.  And you know, I can't help thinking that maybe the sort of negative workplace culture I'm referring to will change if more men step up to the plate.  Don't get me wrong, it's generally not an option available to most men thanks to existing issues around gender pay equity (I would think that in most households it's financially better for the father to keep working) and cultural expectations, but it'll change ever so slightly as time goes on.

I mean, The Boy here looks at storybook pictures of a mother hen with chicks and says "Daddy!".  How cool is that?  So he'll grow up not really caring about traditional gender expectations of the primary carer role.  I hope, I hope I hope I hope, that by the time he's ready for fatherhood he'll have the same feelings about wanting to be involved in the hands-on rearing of his own kids.  And that it won't be seen as something a little out of the norm by then.

Anyways, the upshot of the work stuff is that I've decided to leave my current place of employment.  When, upon hearing of my wife's pregnancy, my boss immediately asked "So how much leave will you be taking this time?" I thought yeah, you've lost me for good now.  And I'll be taking about 12 and a bit solid years of expertise and experience with me, so, you know, fuck 'em and their stupid fucking attitudes.

And things are progressing well in this regard already.  I had a rather excellent interview on Friday (I was the first on the shortlist that they asked, so I took the first and best slot and absolutely nailed it), and I have a reasonable expectation that I'll be asked to another one in the next couple of weeks.  All going well I should be out of there by the end of April. 

.

This is Betty-Sue, a Kitchenaid K5 Deluxe mixer that we bought a few weeks ago, along with one or two other accessories like a spare bowl and a cover.

Betty-Sue

Figured the 1950s american housewife sort of name was the way to go rather than just referring to it as "the mixer", "the K5" or "sroom sroom" as The Boy refers to it.  I bought Betty-Sue with some of the proceeds of a minor inheritance from my maternal grandmother as something for the household, thinking that it was the kind of thing that would be appropriate given memories of her pulla and other baking.  My wife was suitably pleased and impressed as well with the idea which, you know, can only be a good thing.

Must admit that despite the marked improvements in my cooking while at home for the year, baking was one thing I hadn't really gotten into enough.  So Betty-Sue here has helped in that regard, and I've worked on my "mad bakin' skillz" ever since with a few cakes, some more pulla (getting better and better at it) and regular pizza dough.  For doughy stuff it's good at doing the initial mix but really, kneading has to be done by hand (and I much prefer to do the "double knead" wherever possible).  

Talking to my mother, I remarked that I thought my grandmother wasn't the most joyous of women.  But I was rightly corrected.  She was always a bit anxious about us kids, about our welfare, but she was a very loving person too. 

I remember these great weekends my sisters and I had with her and pappa at their house in Mermaid Beach on the Gold Coast, of heading down to Tallebudgera to dig up pippis and then put them together in a paella-ish kind of dish.  Of her and her two daughters every christmas, speaking to each other in rapid-fire karelian finnish over hot stovetops and a constantly running oven, shooing children and husbands out of the kitchen, making piirraka, and those wonderful ginger christmas biscuits (joulu-something), the casseroles and roasts which were simply unsuited to the Australian christmas climate but would have been perfect back in wintry Lappeenranta.

It was clear many years ago, basically after pappa passed away (nearly eleven years ago now), that she'd need better care than her family could give her.  We were very fortunate to get her a place specifically for old Finns south of Brisbane, and by all accounts she was a very popular resident there up until her death earlier this year.  To my regret I didn't get to see her much in the past couple of years, and while I'm sorry she didn't get to meet my son, one of the most recent additions to the family she had originally nurtured, I'm very happy that she was able to meet my wife and that my wife was able to meet her.

It's funny isn't it, the way that the simple act of cooking or baking is itself a type of genetic hand-me-down from our parents and grandparents.  I gently sprinkle the allspice over the dried fruit and dough and anticipate the kitchen smells and the accompanying comforts that reminiscence provides.  My son, peering over the edge of the kitchen table, trying to lift himself up to see more of what I'm doing, will he remember this?  In thirty-odd years' time, will he be writing about early kitchen memories, kneading dough, singing under his breath and thinking about how his dad used to make it?

Mucking about with the towels

One thing I didn't mention in the childcare post was how the both of us have seemed to be continually sick since he started. 

During winter Canberra can get some pretty nasty viruses (possible plural - virii?) going around, which I attribute in part to the comings and goings of diplomatic staff, people going off and on overseas postings and the large volume of interstate travel.

So sure enough, on his first full day he managed to come away with this stupid cold which then knocked me about (and I was silly enough to do the whole stoic carry on as usual act instead of putting myself to bed until it was much too late), and which we're only just getting through now nearly four weeks later.  Indeed, last night we both seemed to be experiencing a new one which started affecting us yesterday afternoon, this dry cough and runny nose thing.  Bloody annoying.

Oddly enough it seemed to just give K a "glancing blow" and she's been fine, a couple of days of a head cold and that was it.  She probably made it look at her work diary and told the virus it could just plain piss off as she didn't have the time for such distractions. 

I could swear that I've been a bit crook more often during this year off work than any other time I can recall.  I've been told by friends that it's all perfectly natural and good that The Boy has the opportunity to pick up these various nasties and start building up his immunities.  I've also been assured that it'll mean by the time he starts going to school he'll be able to withstand most stuff that sweeps through the classes. 

I was hoping that by starting him at childcare early, i.e. before I actually returned to work, we'd be able to deal with the inevitable colds before I would need to start taking days off to look after him.  But I'm thinking now that it's terribly naive of me.  Shall see how it all goes though. 

We didn't mean for it to happen, but it all started with one of those free dvds the Daily Telegraph was giving away around 8 months ago.  It was about celebrating 15 years of the Wiggles or something, with a look back over previous songs and dvds and whatnot. 

Now, up until that point, we'd pretty much been inflicting our muscial tastes on The Boy, barring this one particular cd of kid's songs that we'd used for long drives to and from grandparents' houses (around 1100kms one way, and about 750kms the other).  He'd heard a bit of Tom Waits, latin jazz, Matthew Sweet, Dylan, Bowie (the latter two just like when I was a kid), all kinds of stuff.

But now it's changed, and we're now finding that his musical tastes are being inflicted upon us.  Sure enough, he really liked the free dvd and so we'd put it on occasionally just when we needed him distracted while cooking or whatever, just for a little while as we didn't want him watching too much tv or anything.  Then another free dvd came out with the Tele a couple of weeks ago and we figured we had to get that one too, just to mix it up a little as the one we had was getting a bit trying on us. 

Thing is though, we noticed how well he was responding to the songs - trying to do the little dances and seemingly singing along occasionally.  I'm pretty sure he'll have a bit of musicality about him, several times a week I perch him on my lap and we play piano together which he really seems to like.  So anyway, we bit the bullet and last weekend K went out and bought a few Wiggles dvds.  And the horrible thing is now that both K and I spend most evenings with bloody Wiggles tunes stuck in our head.  The following video has proven to be the most "sticky" for us - naturally I'm sharing it with everyone as a means of spreading the virus as far as possible.  So please enjoy The Wiggles and Dr Knickerbocker...

In sneakers

Monster-moo here formally started daycare a few weeks ago, after a couple of familiarisation sessions that I did with him in an effort to get him used to the place.  He's there one day a week at the moment, then we'll build him up to two in a couple of weeks time, then he'll be there three days a week when I go back to work at the end of this month. 

So far so good, though he seems to still be having a few problems with his daytime nap, which means I've had to head back there and help out a little.  Both K and I are pretty happy with the place we're using, good staff, and a good "vibe" about the centre that we had from our first visit there.  So far the little dude seems to like it ok, though he's done the Big Sook when we've left him in the mornings.  I've been trying to let the staff know what he's like and what his habits are without being too overbearing or anything.

It's funny though, it's like I have to remind myself that he's not even two years old yet and that essentially he's still a bit of a baby regardless of his appearance - he's getting tall for a kid his age (around the height of most three year olds already) - and so it's ok for him to be a bit sooky occasionally.  It's cool how I get to see him adapting though, and the minor changes that his attendance there have already started bringing about.  And of course it gives me the opportunity to miss him a little too, and to get that whole heartwarming moment when he's happy to see me when I come to pick him up in the afternoon.   

The whole Mem Fox thing recently has had me thinking about my own views on childcare.  Fact is, he needs it - I just get the feeling that he's getting to the stage now where I can't provide the stimulation and activities he needs in order to develop and that childcare will help to address this.  And frankly, I'm not going to feel guilty about wanting to get back to my career either.  I've already had a meeting with work about my return and it's looking good for me, with no real problems about going back part-time and some interesting stuff for me to be able to sink my teeth into.       

So, initially at least, I'll have a bit of a balance by being part-time.  And it's all about balance, isn't it?  Working out what seems to be the best for you in the current situation.  I can actually understand Mem Fox's point about these kids (the minority in the overall childcare picture it should be noted) who are in care for extensive hours each week - it just strikes me as problematic.  It can't be good for the parent to be working that hard and spending that much time away from their child. 

So from a public policy point of view I support government subsidisation of childcare as a means of making it affordable for parents to meaningfully participate in employment (and for the record I had this view back when I was a single non-parent taxpayer).  As to the long hours though, well, that's a matter of choice for the parent themselves I guess, insofar as their work situation allows them the flexibility they need.  Maybe that's the issue here, with employers and their expectations. 

I'm lucky in that I'm able to access the flexibility I currently need, but fact is I put a whole lot of work before I left (and, where possible, while I've been away) in setting up the expectation about going back part time and ensuring that my particular areas of expertise wouldn't be forgotten and are still needed. And I'll likely have to make trade-offs like the occasional bit of weekend and after hours work in order to keep things running smoothly anyway.  I'm under no illusions, that's just the way it's probably going to work regardless of the platitudes and best intentions - nature of the modern workplace and all.