Something Changed

To the untrained eye you would be forgiven for thinking that this Adventure started when I wrote the first post back in July.  You might think that it started when R was born.  You could say that it started when we realised that Z was pregnant.  I, on the other hand, like to think that this adventure has been going for a lot longer than that.  For me this all started on Thursday the 28th September 1995, 18 years ago today. 

I was settling into my first flat at university in Leicester having been dropped off by my parents on Sunday afternoon.  It was my first time away from home and I was definitely still learning the ropes of real life.  My new flatmates and I had already managed to find the local pub but on that fateful night one of them, Rich, decided that he wanted to go to the Student's Union and check it out.

I honestly couldn't be bothered.  Even at the tender age of 18 I was a pub kinda guy.  The only night club that I had ever been to and enjoyed was Happy Wednesdays, an indie club in Milton Keynes at the birth of Brit Pop.  The Union promised to be all the music I hated with worse beer than I could get in our new local, but Rich was adamant.  I relented but refused to get changed, instead keeping on my battered jeans, Adidas Gazelles and baggy black Joe Bloggs pullover.  If I was going out, I was going out on my terms.

It turned out that Rich had plans that night.  He was "on the pull" and I was to be his wing man.  This was a concept that was as foreign to me as doing my own laundry.  He spent the evening sharking around the dance floor talking to any girl that would give him the time of day and I spent the evening drinking watered down Flower's at £1 a pint.  As the night wore on and the alcohol took hold, I joined Rich on the dance floor.  I didn't join his quest to get off with a member of the opposite sex, but then something changed.

Rich bumped into a girl that he had been chatting to earlier.  He had thought that they were on the same course, but I think that was just a line he was using.  Like us, she was out with her new house mates and they were all happily dancing away to the cheesy tunes.  We joined their dancing circle and that is when I saw her.  Dancing opposite me was Z.  I'm not going to claim that it was love at first sight but it was something like that.  All I knew was that Rich was still on the pull and I didn't want him to get to her first.

In a move as cheesy as the music that the DJ was playing, I sidled around the circle so that I was at her side and, for reasons I cannot explain to this day, I held her hand.  This is not a move that I had honed over time, nor is it one that I would recommend to any budding Casanovas, but for some reason, possibly pity, Z didn't withdraw her hand and we danced.

As I said, that was 18 years ago.  9 years ago we got married and our first dance was Something Changed by Pulp.  It's been our song since we first heard it a month after we first met.  Its lyrics sum up how we met to a tee.  It turns out that Z didn't want to go to the Union that night either.  I owe Rich a debt of gratitude that I will never be able to repay.  If he hadn't insisted I wouldn't have spent half of my life with the woman I love, my best friend and the mother of my child.

When we woke up that morning we had no way of knowing,
that in a matter of hours we'd change the way we were going.
Where would I be now, where would I be now if we'd never met?
Would I be singing this song to someone else instead?
I dunno but like you said
something changed.

Lyrics by Jarvis Cocker

The Sound of Silence.

This morning, whilst draining a mug of strong coffee in an attempt to wake up, I read an interesting blog entitled 'Dear parents, you need to control your kids. Sincerely, non-parents.' by American DJ, blogger and father of twins, Matt Walsh.  Matt's is not a blog that I have read before, but the striking title of the post peaked my interest and raised my hackles.  However, I shouldn't have been so fast to judge.  The post was an open letter directed at a "fan", who had sneered at a woman whose toddler was having a melt-down in the local supermarket, telling him to mind his own business. 

I won't spoil the well written piece for you, you can read that for yourself.  However, it did make me think about my own experiences in public both with and without R in tow.  To start with, I'll lay my cards on the table.  I have worked in Children's Centres, so I was used to the cacophony that children can make before we had R.  That's not to say that I'm immune to the soul splitting shrieks that some of our bundles of joy can emit. 

Generally R is a very well behaved child, but that doesn't mean that he isn't prone to the odd tantrum.  I'm told that the terrible 2s last until stroppy teenage tendencies kick in and I can well believe it.  The thing is, even when he is screaming blue murder in a public situation; supermarket, restaurant, train, swimming pool, more often or not I end up laughing at him.  After the initial feeling of wishing the ground would swallow me up, reminding myself to stay calm, assessing the situation and trying to stick to my guns, we can normally get through the situation relatively quickly.

I have been on the receiving end of countless disgusted glares from members of the public.  But for every one of those there are a good handful of knowing glances from parents who have already walked a mile in my shoes.  Unsolicited advice is hard to take at the best of times, but when you're trying to coax a whirling dervish down from the ceiling it's seldom appreciated, especially when it's being proffered by a stranger.

And this is the thing. We don't actually want to torment passers by with the tears of our children.  Everybody brings their child up differently, we have to, they don't come with an instruction manual, we have to make it up as we go along*, hopefully learning from each situation.  There is one thing that has happened to me since the arrival of R though, it's almost as if a switch was flicked the moment he was born.  From the moment he arrived, 2 months early, the cries, screams and groans, the giggles, burps and constant babble, remind me that he is alive, in spite of the troubled early days.

The switch has also made the cries of other people's children a joy to hear.  They too are as precious to their parents as R is to me.  Also, rather selfishly, I'm not the one who has to calm them down and deal with the tuts and moans of complete strangers.  Don't get me wrong, I love the sound of silence at the end of the day once he's snuggled up in bed, but I'd hate to live in a world without his voice in it.

*with the help of those whose help we seek, our parents, friends and health professionals.

Two wheels, or not two wheels

R's 3rd birthday is fast approaching and my thoughts are full of birthday present ideas for him.  I keep coming back to a new mode of transport for his main present.  We got him a wooden trike for his 1st birthday and, although he still plays with it, it is now a little small for him.  He sees children on bikes and scooters every time we go to the park and I can sense a tinge of jealousy from him.  I think it's the speed and freedom that he longs for.  Who doesn't love the wind whistling through their hair as you free wheel downhill at break-neck speed?

I remember my first real bike.  It was red and had solid rubber tyres that were always picking up gravel.  It also had badly positioned stabilisers which meant that I was always listing to port or starboard whilst furiously peddling up and down the road outside our house.  I was 3 at the time, I can't remember if the bike was a birthday or Christmas present, but if I had a bike at 3 why shouldn't he?

Well it's not that simple.  Back when I was 3 there wasn't really much choice.  It was bike or no bike once I had graduated from the push-along police car, which constantly took chunks out of my shins.  Now though there are bikes, balance bikes and the ubiquitous scooter.  So what is it to be?  No matter what I choose one thing is guaranteed, I will end up, like most parents, lugging the thing around once R is bored of it.  That thought may well be the deal clincher.

*** UP DATE ***

R's birthday has come and gone and of course I made my mind up and got him a present.  One which had his eyes on stalks as he wandered still half asleep into the living room, where it stood on display covered in ribbon.  In the end it was R who made my mind up for me.  I chose a scooter for his new mode of transport.

I pick R up from nursery every day.  More often than not the children are all outside playing when I get there.  The nursery has a nice outdoor play area with slides, climbing frame, sandpit, everything you could hope for.  There is also a road painted onto the playground.  Regardless of what R has been doing in the moments before I arrive, there are two things that inevitably happen.  First I get a hug.  This is, without a shadow of a doubt, the highlight of every day.  Second, R runs off, grabs a scooter and races around the street circuit.

The joy on his face as he shows off how fast he can go is contagious.  I couldn't get him anything else for his birthday.  The clincher was when I found a non gender specific black and green scooter which can convert from 4 to 2 wheels as his confidence grows.  We have done the sensible thing and bought him a helmet as well, although why they are kept in the narrowest and busiest isle in Toys R Us* is beyond me.

Next up is Christmas and I guess a bike will be on the list, I hope Santa has plenty of room on his sleigh this year!

*Other helmet shops are available.