Parental Ability Gap

For the first time yet I found myself missing the ability to know what to do as a parent last night. Five year old was visibly down and appeared on the verge of tears. Gentle coaxing ensued to ascertain the cause. I wasn't expecting the reason he gave. He doesn't want his Grandad to die. In my naivety I thought he had been shielded from the fact that Grandad was seriously unwell, but with hindsight I guess the clues were there. Fewer visits, him not being allowed to be quite so rough playing anymore etc. etc. What prompted this mini depression still remains a mystery, I can only assume something was discussed at school. Generally he has the attention span of all five year olds, slightly more than a goldfish. Although he has begun saying that we shouldn't kill any of God's creatures, again probably prompted by some school activity. He's growing up fast, and I need to start learning how to deal with that, fast.

The going was good to infirm

First chance I've had to write about the Sports Day events. I was rather surprised at how well it was organised. It involved about 100 children competing in various races: Egg and Spoon, Bean Bag Race, Crab Race (where two cherubs stand back to back, link arms and then run sideways), Sack Race, Hoop on Head Race, and straightforward running race. The kids were put in teams of 5, thereby eliminating the chances of one outstanding athlete winning all the races. They were then split into classes and rotated round the field to participate in each event. The amount of cheating going on matched my expectation levels. One girl in my son's class had her own idea of how far she should run; only as far as required for her to assume leadership in any race, then turn for home quickly, leaving the rest in her wake. It was nice to witness at first hand just how pushy some parents really are. Screaming at their children to run faster, stop being so slow etc.etc. Not surprisingly these are the ones whose parents berate them in the school yard over not doing well enough in class. These are 5 year olds we're talking about, hardly truculent teenagers. The children I felt sorry for, apart from the truly uncoordinated, were the ones scouring the groups of parents, searching for their own Mummy and/or Daddy, and finding no recognisable smiling face beaming back. I understand some people would find it hard to get time off to attend events, but both parents not showing, for your progeny's first sports day - harsh. Our own star not only had me and my wife, but Nana and Grandad watching too. They seemed completely baffled by the changing of venues, despite my efforts at explaining the different events. At what age to you lose the will to apply common sense to a new situation? I dread that day. After the cessation of child olympics we were informed that the traditional Father's Race was now to take place. A stranger gathering of same sex beings I have yet to witness. It became painfully obvious to me that I featured in the upper age range. I thought people were having kids later these days? Yet I was not in the grey haired brigade, something for which I was grateful. Quite a few of the larger gentlemen had to be barracked by the throng before the surrendered to the inevitable - they were going to have to run. Clearly some of these guys hadn't run since their own school sports days, and were already regretting not bringing that crutch or fake plaster cast with them. In terms of racing this didn't make much of a spectacle, with the younger dads making mincemeat of the field. I finished in a respectable position, and finished still able to breathe, unlike some other competitors. Next year may see the attendance of St. John's Ambulance volunteers for the Father's Race. My son expressed his gratitude in my participation, "You were rubbish Daddy!" and I realised then that he still has that childlike notion that your Dad is the best person in the world and can beat all other children's Dads easily. I think some of my gloss came off at that point, although at least I came first out of his classmates, so some some dignity and kudos was salvaged, I think.

Chariots of Fire

The 30th birthday seems to have passed with little real trauma, the only sour notes caused by our 5 year old, who having sensed mummy was not happy being 30, now tells everyone he meets that his mummy is 30. Bless. My low key approach appears to have been gratefully received. I can do somethings right sometimes then. My current problem looming on the horizon is my son's sports day - Thursday afternoon. My wife is playing the pregnancy card to avoid the Mother's Race, it's far more versatile than a get out of jail free card. This encumbers me with the parental participation project - I am by default liable to partake in the Father's Race. I now wish I had taken more note of potential rivals when dropping off and picking up my son. I have no real idea, except for one or two, what the calibre of his classmates' fathers are. I am in my late 30s and although I play 5-a-side football every week am not fooling myself that I am in prime physical condition. As I am fairly tall, and I am expecting a relatively short race I am hoping that my initial burst of speed couple with a long stride will see me through. My consolation is that I will be able to show my son that it isn't the winning that matters, but the taking part. I just hope I don't come last.

Birthday Woes

My wife is 30 tomorrow and seems to be having some sort of crisis about this fact. She has asked me not to make a big deal of this birthday, as she doesn't want to be in her 30s, it makes her feel old. I've never had such a worry, to me age is just a number, I still think of myself mentally as in my early 20s. The only time my age jolts me is when I fill in some sort of form where the group ages, like 18-25, 26-30 etc. When I move boxes filling in forms is when the reality that I am getting older hits me. I've tried to rationalise things with my wife, we're married, have a mortgage, two children with a third en route so to speak. We can hardly be in denial as to our status. My problem is how to treat her birthday. I've managed to choose presents, buy cards without ages on, but does she really not want to mark her transition into her 30s? Or is this woman speak for don't make a fuss, but I do want a fuss really? I'll perhaps prime eldest born to ascertain the real situation, although given his history of tact that might not be the best plan. I'll sleep on it and guage reaction in the morning perhaps.....

Realisation

The recent events in London have certainly awakened memories which I had buried deeply, and their effects feel all the more sharp now. I was caught up in the first IRA bombs in Manchester circa 1990. The first blast happened outside the building I worked in. I was actually walking to work when it went off, although I was a good 250 yards away. I still remember thinking what on earth has happened, the VERY loud bang, smoke and windows falling out all around me. The feeling of the bomb shock wave rushing past. In my numb state I approached the office as though I was going to carry on with my day normally, I guess that's the effect of shock, you look for normality. Obviously I was ushered away by the first police on the scene, who warned of secondary devices, something I hadn't considered. I spent the next few hours trying to weave my way between police cordons, as the exclusion zone was widened. Unfortunately this led me to the site of the second explosion, just before it went off. This time I was about 100 yards away from it, and got covered in earth and grass. Thankfully having experienced the first one I was walking down the middle of the road when the glass fell out of windows again, unlike some unfortunate bystanders. My thoughts at the time were how lucky I had been, now as a married man with children I hear of such atrocities and feel the anguish families must be going through not knowing what happened to their loved ones. My feelings of helplessness and inevitability at the time are now replaced by anger at people's lack of regard for other humans in the name of a so called holy war. I have also realised that despite putting these events in a memory bank the feelings can soon come swiftly back to the surface. A legacy all those touched by the current events wiil find too. My thoughts are with them