| Issue: | 28,2004/05 | Page: | 10-12 |
|
Abstract |
Father of three - a personal
story |
| Keywords: | Fathers, children, family |
To
me, fatherhood has been a steep learning
curve. At first it all seemed so easy: nine months of patting my wife’s
tummy
and decorating the
babies room (back
then it would never take 9 months to carry
out a simple DIY task). The thing I
feared most was how awful it might be in the delivery suite – and how
much the
head wetting would cost me – neither of which turned out to be too bad.
Okay, the birth was scary,
beautiful, and a tad messy. But
everyone came out alright eventually, gumboots on the obstetrician and
all.
Then, when we had to take that little baby home for the first time and
it was
just going to be my wife Nik and I for ever and ever, I finally got the
concept. I was both terrified and excited rolled into one, and pretty
much all
thumbs for the first many months.
That was eight years ago.
I have
been in a new job for 9 months. Ask me how things
are there, and I would say that I feel comfortable in my new
environment, know
who people are, can make competent decisions based on knowledge, and
the people
who work with me now understand how I operate – after only 9 months. But being a dad for eight years now (nine if
you count the months patting Niks tummy)
I can only say that in that job
I’m still learning.
Fatherhood
isn’t scary anymore – it can seem like
endless hard work and it can be the most rewarding experience ever, but
the
most amazing thing about having children, and especially more than one
child,
is being able to see the differences in them. That seems a statement of
the
obvious but each child is so different.
Let me
tell you about them:
My
eldest son is Thomas. He is nearly 8, loves Duel
Masters (it was Yu Gi Oh and before that Pokemon), cricket, soccer and
rugby. He taught me to appreciate how
much time and effort my own father invested in me when I was a child.
Boys
don’t just learn how to bat and throw a ball, how to tackle around the
laces,
or how to log onto the Virtual NPC on their own. It takes commitment,
but
Thomas thrives on it – and he beats me in the NPC rugby picks!
Next in
line is Sophie (5), our
little
princess. Not being the most dainty of
dads, Sophie has taught me a lot about girl stuff: There are at least
50
versions of Barbie (and accessories); you can never have too many
dolls; and
pink is the only colour to wear. How Nik and I produced such a 'real'
girl is a
mystery.
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Sophie’s idea of fun
is to play dress-ups, jump on the
trampoline until it has fully stretched out and “do her face” – a game
passed
on by her Nana. Sophie draws me the most
beautiful pictures, tells me every detail of her day and cuddles on any
excuse
– priceless as they say on those TV ads.
I’m not
into playing favourites, but third is Samuel, 2
years old, and he is a real daddy’s boy. From the break of dawn Sammy
is my
shadow. We sit in the kitchen and make the school lunches, read the
paper and
get breakfast ready. We fight over the
nappy change and ensure everyone is up by 7am.
I never
realised how special it would make me feel to be
“the one”, that is the one who can kiss bangs better, the one who makes
his
toast the right way and the one this child wants to spend ALL his time
with. I
don’t think I am jealous of my wife and
her role with the children, but it makes me smile all over when
Sammy
comes running calling “Daddy, Daddy” – even if it is at 6am every
morning!
I often
wonder if the reason I have such a close bond
with my youngest, Sammy, is because for the first year of his life I
was
working from home. I was there most often for the mundane aspects of
parenting
like nappies and sleeps. Because of this Sammy was just as likely to
look for
me as he was for his mother. Or maybe it was just that he’s a third
child and
had to get attention whereever he could find it...
Most of
my weekends are spent at home – DIY and the
garden are my hobbies. Sammy is my helper (I use that term loosely). No
plastic
kiddie toys here, he has to have the real thing (full size), and Nik
still goes
crazy at me when she sees him walking around with a screwdriver in one
hand and
a hammer in the other (he even has his own tape measure), but I trust
him.
Nik and
I often talk about what makes our kids’
memories, and how we can create those special moments they will
remember. When
I think back, apart from a lack of memories from my early childhood,
the things
I remember are not what was on TV, what toys we had, nor what we did at
school.
The things that stood out for me when I was a boy were:
· House renovations – continuous projects where I held the
nails – usually in the dark and rain in a last ditch effort to
waterproof the
house for the night.
· Exploring the neighbourhood with friends. We knew
everyone within a 2 block radius and the backdoors (and front) were
always
open.
· Camping trips away in our old circus style tent in
various camping grounds and fields across NZ.
Often
enough I feel pulled in too many different
directions: interruptions
from family, from work, from the various kids activities,
from house renovation (it was bred in). So my wife
suggested to have a long weekend away, with just
one child and me. At first that met with trepidation. There were to be
no other
agendas or interruptions, no expectations other than to have fun and
enjoy.
'Away'
would probably mean a holiday at my parents’ bach
at Whangamata beach. This didn’t seem
like such a bad thing after all. Me and one child: they would be in bed
by
7.30pm, no sibling rivalry, plus there was rugby on TV and I could eat
junk
food all weekend. Reluctantly, I accepted the challenge.
Decision made, I let Tommy know that we were off next weekend. I then
had to
spend the next hour convincing Sophie that her turn would come. One
happy boy,
one upset girl – and a 2yr old oblivious to anything that would not go
neatly
into his mouth.
The next
Friday Nik packed the car, so I arrived home to
be greeted at the door by the dog and Tommy, packed and ready to go. The trip to the beach was heaven: radio sport
all the way until coverage was lost. Tommy and I listened to static for
a good
five minutes hoping to catch the half time score in a Super 12 game.
Once all
hope was up we reverted to my one Robbie Williams CD.
Upon
arrival at the bach we let ourselves in, turned the
TV on and caught the second half -
thanks TV3! Tommy woke me up after the game and suggested that I go to
bed, he
would look after the TV and lights. Cheeky bugger.
The next
morning he woke up bright and early so we
unpacked the dog and gear from the car. ‘There was rugby on last
night’, I
explained, ‘and sometimes you
have to
prioritise things in life’. Little had I
expected that this trip would allow me pass snippets of my infinite
wisdom – a
luxury not indulged under normal circumstances.
After a
fry-up for breakfast we decided on a trip up to
the waterfall in the Wentworth valley.
The journey began with a drive along dirt and gravel roads,
across a
ford, slowly at first, then back again for another crack (this time
with a stop
in the middle and then with all doors open) then a tad faster… you get
the
picture. It took us 15 minutes to clear that ford and I’m not sure who
enjoyed
it more.
The walk
to the waterfall was cold, wet, muddy, quiet –
heaven really. Boy Heaven. Tommy
humoured me for a good 20 minutes before he decided that there was no
point in
taking the conventional track, especially when you can just walk up the
middle
of the river, dodging the odd iceberg or tree trunk.
My feet were frozen within 3 minutes and I
know his were too, but he never admitted it – though his constant
giggling had
a background timbre of chattering teeth.
We made
it to the waterfall and sat in the sun eating
muesli bars (thanks Nik) and taking in the most amazing view. Tommy
observed
casually that we would have to walk all the way down as I didn’t bring
my
cell-phone to get someone to pick us up!
The trip down was less eventful (it's easier being swept down
river) and
after a couple of hours we made our way home – well actually back
across the
ford another half a dozen times. Some things never wear too thin!
After lunch we had a
compulsory sleep – well, I did –
and then it was down to the wharf for a spot of fishing.
We dug around in the caravan at the bach as I
was sure that I left my bait-catcher and fishing rod there the last
time I used
them, which was 15 years ago or so. They
were still there, ready to go. The hooks
may have been a bit rusty and I am sure the nylon would not have held a
strong
current but away we went.
Doing
that fatherly thing I sent Tommy into the water to
dig with his toes for some pipi bait.
The afternoon was still pretty damp but we were not alone on the
wharf –
an amazing number of dads had had the same idea. Whilst
not being the most successful fishing
trip (we failed to find any pipis), we saw many a sprat pulled up by
the other
kids, and Tommy seemed undaunted by the fact that his dad couldn't
provide the
same. We then just cruised the wharf and enjoyed the others' successes
quietly
hiding our own batch-catcher and rusty hooks away.
Another
late night up, this time including a number of
card games and then a quiet lay down to watch the late movie on TV
(Austin
Powers – Mum was not there to tell us how unsuitable it was), and yep,
Tommy
wakes me up after the movie and suggests that I should go to bed, he’ll
turn
off the lights!
Sunday
was a day for a treasure hunt walk along the
beach (nothing but laughs), then a quick game of golf on the local 9
hole
course. We teamed up with two
(childless) guys who obviously felt inspired by the
concept. We lasted two
holes before I let them off the hook to enjoy their game at a faster
rate. But
Tommy and I had a ball. I was seeing life at a different pace, from a
different
level and with a different focus – it was pretty rewarding really (and
I won!!!!).
Two
weeks later I did my second trip with number one
daughter and that bought its own share of highlights.
Did it
work? Both kids still remind me of those trips.
They remember amazing details of what we did, what we saw, and that
time
together. Hopefully it forms who they are and what they look back on.
Who knows
- I certainly had a lot of fun!
I know
it all comes down to personality and interests.
Tommy and I share a love of sport and we spend many hours talking,
playing and
watching it. He is the only kid I know who can watch a 5 day test match
from
start to finish and name all NPC teams. Sophie is simply gorgeous: she
will be
in dungarees until she is 30 if I have my way. But with Sam and I, in
the years
to come he’ll still be out the back passing me nails and stealing my
hammer
when I’m not using it.
It makes picking a favourite impossible – the bonds are very much
different and
I gain so much from each of them. I guess if that is my only worry, I
will just
have to take it!