The reality is frightening

You know that feeling after the excitement and buzz of setting off on something new? Its called FEAR! It may not be entirely rational, especially when you've taken such care in making your decision, but at some stage, it is going to hit you.
Well, this weekend it hit me. As I was packing up our garage, disposing of all sorts of crap that we'd gathered over the past few years, the reality hit me. I won't be able to find a way to use this lovely old door frame I am about to throw on the dump. What about the side board I was going to sand down and repaint?
And then clearing out my study... OMG how could I possibly have kept the ticket stubs from my 1996 Cape to Rio flight home?
We're packing up our house, moving our sh!t into storage, going to live at C's uncle's place and then.... well, what happens next? Either I get a contract job in CPT, or maybe a permananent one, OR we I head of to London... That means that we are actually packing up with emigrating in mind. Not just moving to a rented spot in Kenilworth, but quite possibly a rented spot in Wimbledon!
Thats when the fear sets in.
Luckily it is that positive, stressful, buzz or excited fear, rather than that - I just watched Nightmare on Elm Street and now need to walk down the dark corridor - fear...

Michael had more vaccinations on Friday. Little bugger just isn't the same after these things. He's also losing his voice... He can't reach the high notes all of a sudden... its not all bad...

He was 6 months old on Friday. Can't believe how time is flying!

My world turned upside down

Holy crap, the last month has been hectic.

We sold our house. Made a tidy profit, but have not been able to find a replacement...

I quit my job. Yes, I walked into my MD's office and said Adios Amigo, I've had enuff... they were shocked. Almost 8 years in this place, I've worked my arse off, I've done well, I've supported most of the staff in some manor, I've really given it my all. But they just wouldn't listen.

So, not too far from now, I'll be the guy standing at the traffic lights with a sign in my hand, looking a little forelorn...

"No job, no house, family to feed, gold card to pay, SUV installments... please help. Donations of R5000 and up would be appreciated"

On the upside, I am totally loving this new freedom. It is liberating. Been offered a couple of jobs, had a few businesses show some interest, and have generally been congratulated for my daring move. Weird hey? Everyone is congratulating me for resigning, even tho I have nothing set up for when my notice period is up.

So, 1 November 2007 I am a free man....

Now to make things happen...

Michael is fine. Wonderful really. Starting to teeth. This time I can actually feel the tooth. SO cute..

My first date...

So, last night C and I went on our first post-natal date.
Little M was left shnuggled up warm as toast with his granny and grandpa-Nige, while we went out into the cold wintery evening to check out a house (we're still homeless) and then to have a spot of dinner.
So, it wasn't exactly a dinner date but rather some time alone, just me and me darlin'.
We went to Jakes at Steenberg which was really good. Nice bottle of wine, some calamari, a burger and... oh sh!t my phone is ringing...
It my home number... that can only mean one thing... don't panic..
M is screaming his little lungs out. Now, to put this in perspective, this kid hardly cries. Gran is beside Nige who is beside himself...
I got the bill, wolfed down the last few mouthfulls of my burger, downed my wine, corked the half bottle and ran after my wife who was already trying to get into the car.
We barely stopped moving when she was out and into the house... and there he was in Granny's arms with a biiig smile for mommy...

Poor Gran has now lost her confidence as a baby sitter, which doesn't bode well for our future attempts at dates...
We'll just have to convince her it was teething or a blocked nose or some other common baby ailment.

That dirty weekend away will just have to wait...

The joy of having a child

I find it amazing at just how much pleasure one can get out of having your own child. First of all there is the amazement and wonder that we are actually able to create these wonderful little things. Then there is the unbelievably overwhelming love that one feels immediately for your own flesh and blood. And of course, there is the complete joy of spending time with this little creature that loves unconditionally and relies completely on you to survive.

And when he laughs... your heart just melts...

You weigh how much?

Its amazing just how focussed us humans are on our weight and weight issues. At least half of the ads you hear or read are about weight loss, dietery suppliments or weird contraptions designed to confuse and possibly injure even the most intelligent yoga instructor. And then the other side of things is the constant fixation with underweight celebs. The infamous Size Zero... wtf?
So half of the time we're told we're too fat, the other half we're too thin. No wonder there are so many confused individuals out there.

Michael is having a weight problem... Now, being my son, he is not so priviledged to have what I like to term a healthy appetite with a slower than required metabolism... The result is that if I do happen to have seconds(thirds?) and don't do some regular exercise, I blow up like Oprah after she's celebrated losing 40kgs... okay, not quite that drastic, but you get the point.

Anyway, Michael wasn't putting on enough weight. So C went on some pills to help the milk factory. That meant he put on 3 times as much as he was supposed to, so C cut back on the pills... This week, he lost weight... Whats up with that. He eats, burps, farts, sh!ts the same amount, but the weight gain is so different. You'd think he'd complain when he was hungry, but nooo, he just chills out and smiles at us.

So, I reckon we go for the too much rather than too little approach. Lets test to see if he has daddy's metabolism, if he does, he's gonna turn into one chubby little boiy!

3 months already

Can you believe it.

Michael is 3 months old!

What an amazing time we're having. He is such an angel and other than the little snorting and sniffling in the early hours, he is basically sleeping through. The little guy hardly cries and has found his smile. It's the cutest thing in the world and melts your heart.

I think the most frustrating thing for me right now is that I am not getting to spend enough time with him... okay well, as much time as I'd like. I mean, I've been missing bath time most evenings cos of work. And then weekends come along and it's more work, hockey matches and some socialising, which is important, but takes away from those sweet moments....

And sweet they are. Sitting there with him in my arms. He stares at his daddy with love (and sometimes confusion) in his eyes. I talk to him and he smiles. Then he drifts off to sleep. It is truly wonderful.

As Jimmy Buffet said "I took a trip on a sailing ship..." but not to Jamaica. Instead we headed south around Cape Point to Simon's Town where we tied up for the night, and then headed out up the East Coast. We first had to round one of the most feared Cape's in the world... Cape Aguhlas where the Indian and Atlantic oceans meet in what is sometimes an incredibly violent encounter. Luckily we timed things perfectly and went in between to rather large cold fronts leaving us with little wind, flat sea's and [mostly] sunny days. It was effing cold tho and even snowed in Plettenberg Bay!!

There were a few interesting moments during our 4 days at sea. On rounding Cape Point we came face to face with the pride of the SA navy, one of the 4 new frigates. They even sent a big helicopter to circle us. We only found out later that we had wandered through their live firing exercise....

We also had some interesting engine troubles. Both engines were getting starved of diesel cos of the fuel filters. Had lots of fun siting on a smoking hot engine, my head ducked down beside it attempting to bleed out some diesel... at night.... on a rolling sea... Murphy you bastard, alwasy showing up at the most inopportune moments.

Anyway, I survived, and luckily so cos I still need to update my life insurance.

Accidental Parenting

No, this is not Hugo's style of becoming a parent*, but rather a term used in the latest in the string of parenting and baby books I am reading.
Now, I don't normally prescribe or enjoy those self help kinda books that explain hw you should be living your life and what you should be doing, in fact I feel that you should make and learn from your own mistakes.
Having said that, there is definately something to be said for some good advice and guidance. Alot of the parenting type books out there are extremely regimented and impractical to follow. Other advice out there is from Gran or Great-gran and that advice is just SO outdated... I mean who still uses baby powder anyway, and what are towelling nappies used for other than vomit mats?

The Baby Whisperer by Tracy Hogg, is one such book that imparts some wonderful advice. It is honest, logical, intelligent and seems to be based on real world practice as opposed to laboratory experiment. Okay, I've only read 5 pages and skimmed a few more, but so far so good. Paul Kerton's Fab Dad is also a great read for Dad's but doesn't get down to the nitty gritty that Mom's need.

Anyway, posted about being a super sub the other day... Well... maybe less super than I orginally thought... Although my intentions were good, I found out this morning, after getting up at 5am and comforting Michael for an hour or so in order to let Cath sleep, that I was caught in a typical Accidental Parenting trap. What I am supposed to do, is to ignore the little snorts and sniffles, grunts and groans and let the kid sleep on. Apparently babies make funny noises for a while before waking, and me getting up, grabbing him and sitting comforting him for a while was actually not such a good thing as it is going to get him used to Daddy holding him and putting him to sleep in the early morning... Something I would hate to have to do every single morning, altho holding him is wonderful.

So, tomorrow I'll ignore the grunts and groans and wait for the crying before I jump into the game and super sub!

Either that or sleep in the spare room and ignore the lot!
:)




*He's on his second unplanned kid, and has now decided to marry his gf!

The fear of infection

On Friday, I was struck down by one of the Viruses going around Cape Town. No, not one of those ones that they guys in tight lycra on Somerset Road like to pass around amongst themselves, but rather the Gastro Interitis variety.
It was not a pleasant experience. First came the aches and pains all over. Then came the headaches. Then came the nausea. Eventually I was ready to implode... or explode. I ran out the office, went straight home attempting to listen to cricket to get my mind of my impending death (or so it felt). When I staggered through the door, Cath took one look at me and feared the worst. She was on her own!

Getting sick is not what it used to be. In the days pre-baby you got sick, felt sorry for yourself, lay around, attempted to get better, got loads of sympathy from your loved one and eventually you were fine again and it didn't really matter how long it took. Now, things are somewhat different.

For one thing, there is little or no sympathy. The reason for this is not selfish at all, but rather that one of the team is down, leaving the other half to battle on alone. Being sick doesn't mean just lying around anymore, it means isolation. You have to lock yourself away as best as possible so as not to infect the new born (or pregnant wife).
And the worst part of all, you can't be with, touch or show affection to the one you love! It was awful. I couldn't give him a little kiss on the head or strock his cheek... or change is pooey nappy!

So, I recovered pretty quick, I mean, what is the point of being sick when you can't enjoy the fringe benefits?

On a lighter note, Cath has been talking about getting a new image. Her drive to eat healthily and look good while she was pregnant has continued, and now she is taking much greater interest in her "style". A conversation on that topic ended with the cheesiest quote I've heard in a while. She commented on my hairstyle (trendy y'see) and said...

"You got the look.... Nananana Na, Na Nananana Nana..."

The Sport of Parenting

Okay, so I'm no expert as I've only been doing this for 3 weeks, but I am fast drawing comparisons with parenting to sport.
Being parents is all about team work, and being a team player. If you work together, then generally the overall result is a win.

Being a father at this early stage is like being a Substitute... at times a super sub. You sit on the bench while the team is on the field and when the other player gets tired, you are called in. If you're the Super-Sub, you make an immediate difference resulting in a win or points on the board.
Last night is a case in point.
Sniffle, sniffle, snort, snort... what the hell was that? I think there's a wild boar in the room... oh, its him...
He's awake. Mum is fast asleep. Roll over, check the time. How can it be this early... how can I be awake... this night time feeding has to stop.. oh wait, he needs it to grow... I wonder what time the last feed was. Maybe I'll just ignore him... no chance of that...
I realise I've been tagged (by the complete lack of movement of the body lying next to me) and its my turn to get in the ring. Up I get, comfort... doesn't work. Walk around and comfort... doesn't work. Change nappie (looks awful, still doesn't smell too bad)...doesn't work. Only one thing left... food.
but it gave mum an extra 30 mins of sleep time... that makes me the Super Sub!

It also makes me the most tired person in my office, cos clearly sleep was not forthcoming after that...

Growing pains

Michael is 3 weeks old today. He started out as a little bundle of pink wrinkliness, and has actually grown into a little baby.
He was 3.24kg when born, C and I were expecting a monster. In fact, C was really concerned that he would be over 4kgs at birth and she would have to push something that big out. As it turned out, things conspired against natural, full-term birth, and we have this little guy who is still only due in a week's time!

When we went to dress him to take him home from hospital, all the clothes we had brought him were too big! Unbelievably to me, the new born stuff was so big it hung off him. I went out to P'nP and bought him the smallest size babygrows they have... they call the size "Tiny Baby".
In three weeks, you can actually notice the size difference. In fact he grows almost noticably bigger everyday!
Thats probably cos of the amount he eats. He seems to be constantly feeding. Not much of a problem for me, but my poor wife has to lift her top every 3 hours for 45mins at a time. And while doing that she has to burp him and also gets to change him... when I'm not around that is...

The little guy is just a loud noise at one end and no sense of responsibility at the other...

I love him!

Yaaaawn

I can barely keep my eyes open.
F*ck me, I'm tired.

I don't get it. I was an insomniac for years and lived on 3 or 4hrs sleep a night. Now I'm getting more than that and I am shattered.

It may be that its something to do with the fact that we wake up every 3hrs or so for feeds. Hey, I'm not even the one that has to get up and actually do the feed, but clearly the interruptions are causing chaos with my rhythms...

Who would have thought that I'd be the tired one? Cath is the one who couldn't go for a day with less than 7hrs sleep a night, and now she's up every 3 hrs and she's doing great.

Being a Father is truly wonderful. When I look at my little guy, I truly understand how unconditional love feels.

Dis ek!

Who's your daddy?
Well, I am the Daddy.

My son Michael was born on 07 March 2007.

I blogged about the experience of pregnancy from a Dad's perspective and other pearls of wisdom on http://berrydtreasure.blogspot.com
Now its time to blog about fatherhood.