Nigel Slaters Toast - but not as you know it

I'm a big fan of Nigel Slater, both his writing and also latterly his TV show. He has a propensity for food that aligns with my own and his à bas prix approach to dishes suits parenthood perfectly. Suz and I just watched Toast - a film adaptation of his autobiography bearing the same name. It is a beautiful and heart warming tale of a young boy who loses his mother and follows his life's path soaking in the torrid relationship with his step mother and his fight with her for his fathers attention. If you have the chance to see it, I implore you to do so.

Nigel Slaters raison d'être is to provide an alternative to the prolix recipes offered up by celebrity chefs that require visits to specialist shops and lengthy preparation time. His recipe's are unadorned, which is glorious when your nights sleep reduce to a paucity of hours and a simple sojourn to the shops requires a mammoth pack, check, double check and go.

It's true, your children are time thief's. I am richly blessed in that I have a part time job that pays sufficiently well to afford us the luxury of Suzy not working. I am in genuine awe of parents who balance full time work and child rearing. It's the trickiest balance both from a decision point of view (posing the question whether to be a stay at home parent or not) and also in terms of weighing your attention in the correct percentage. It's easy to say your children come first, and of course they do in your heart and mind, but in reality executing this balance of attention is extremely difficult as work, by it's very nature is a time hog. The decision for Suzy not going back to work wasn't an easy one - it has required a significant financial sacrifice, but the bond created now is precious and unrepeatable and I would happily live on a plank to have it.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body. Words uttered Elizabeth Stone, some 200 or so years ago. Words that stand true today and I'm sure for generations to come. In your youth, whilst you have the privilege of a lack of appurtenance, you have the world at your feet, and your heart perhaps as saliently is entirely your own. You may chose to share such a precious de rigueur with a loved one but it's only when you have children that you discover the requisite requirement of handing your heart over completely, totally and utterly. Over the last few months I have turned into the kind of doting parent I was once baffled by, looking on, wondering why such small, loud, worry-inducing bundles could hold on to the key to such a grandiose thing as ones heart. I spend my days wistfully longing to be home to spend time with Olivia and am positively mirthful when the clock-settable gummy smile greets me at the door.

Today spelled out a new dawn for Suzy and I as we took delivery of a new car seat, one that faces forward rather than backward; an oppose that any parents will know spells out a significant step in growth. Olivia has progressed so much in the last few weeks. We have been graced with new found giggles, gurgles, and high pitched squeals that despite causing significant damage to my hearing, has been wonderful to see.

Jules Verne said that there is one thing remarkable about the future, that being that it is never futuristic. The same obscured-in-front-of-your-eyes change can be said of childhood. She'll have her own car soon...

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

The best road I've ever travelled

Yes, I know, its been too long and what's the point of having a blog if you don't post on it etc etc. Well here you all are, (if indeed I can be so presumptuous as to assume people do actually read this) a post.

Since my last blog, almost 5 months ago would you believe, I've bowed to a huge proverbial mountain of life changes including a brand-new job and the expected adjustment to parenthood. And what an adjustment it has been! Absolutely nothing prepares you for the tumultuous chaos a new born brings you. Your mind is expecting sleepless nights, hours of seemingly fruitless pacing up and down and the constant attention monopoly, but somehow it still comes as a surprise at 4am when you have to leave for work at 7:30. Let us not be fooled, parenthood is hard, but my goodness it's worth it. Olivia graces us with the most pulchritudinous expressions I have ever seen. Her smiles, grins and giggles fill our world with colour that simply cannot be matched. Marcus Cicero once said, "the greater the difficulty, the greater the glory" and in the case of child rearing, a truer word could not have been spoken.

It is with great sadness I have recently overheard or read parents expressing their dissatisfaction with parenthood stating such things as that their children are causing them copious amounts of stress and that they are 'doing their heads in.' I do wonder if these parents will be the ones that in years to come fail to have a bond with their grown up offspring. I do genuinely fail to see how any parent can derive anything other than elated joy in the broad strokes with regards to their children, and indeed this opinion is shared by Suzanne who positively laps up the sleepless nights and the teething and the sick stained clothing. She, and I, do this because there is no reward greater for such hard work than to have just a single smile of appreciation in return.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:Bedlington,United Kingdom

Well we did it. On the morn of Monday the 26th of July, Suzy gave birth to the beautiful 7lb 15oz Olivia Alexandra Reed. She is undeniably the most beautiful creation to have ever graced this world. And yes, I know, biased, but I care not one jot.

The last 58 hours have presented me with the biggest emotional roller coaster I have ever experienced in my whole life. It all started in the early hours of Sunday morning, at our local hospital's delivery suite where we spent 5 hours waiting, and waiting, and nothing happening, only to be sent home, after nothing happened, at 5am. Returning at 7 o'clock that evening.

The proverbial roller coaster that began in that room on Sunday is still well and truly in full swing and I've tapped into emotions that I did not even know existed. I was told to be prepared for the most amazing thing I have ever seen, namely watching Suzy give birth, and while it was that, it was also the most terrifying, anxious 14 hours of my life. An extract from wikipedia on labor: "Uterine muscles form opposing spirals from the top of the upper segment of the uterus to its junction with the lower segment. During effacement, the cervix becomes incorporated into the lower segment of the uterus. During a contraction, these muscles contract causing shortening of the upper segment and drawing upwards of the lower segment, in a gradual expulsive motion. This draws the cervix up over the baby's head. Full dilatation is reached when the cervix has widened enough to allow passage of the baby's head, around 10 cm dilation for a term baby." Another way to explain the above is to say, stuff happens, and it hurts, a lot. Seeing Suzanne in so much pain was heart wrenching. I felt like I wanted to transport myself into her body and take some of the pain for a while. A cliche, I know, but I felt hopeless in the knowledge that no matter how much encouragement I gave, no matter how much reassurance, Suzy was facing the worst pain she had suffered since Devin was born, some ten years ago and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. When the baby finally arrived I felt a tremendous sense of relief which completely overwhelmed the emotional response I was expecting. Rather than feel tearful, beholding the sight of my newborn, I was numbed, emotionally shipwrecked.

Shortly after the birth Suz was ushered to the ward and I was sent home. I walked into an empty house and sat, for nearly 20 minutes, trying to work out what it was I was feeling. I had prepared myself for elation, tears, a sense of pride and was even set for being overwhelmed, but as I sat there, perched on the end of my bed, I felt non of that. It was as if someone had inserted an extraction device inside me and sucked out all remnants of feeling. Exhausted, I drifted off only to wake an hour and a half later conscious that I needed to pass on the good news to all and sundry.

I made my way back to the hospital that morning. Thoughts spun through my mind like salad being tossed about; I was sure that everything that was supposed to happen emotionally would happen and that I would of course, break down in tears and be flooded with every emotion I had prepared for and expected. I walked onto the ward and Olivia was sleeping. I stared at her longingly, hoping it would trigger something inside me; perhaps I had just been tired and overwhelmed the night before. Surely it would come now. It didn't. I picked her up and held her in my arms and it was like I was holding a doll. An inanimate object to which there was no sentiment. My heart sank. I felt crushed. Why was I not feeling anything? Why had the others dads that day been emotional, proud, doting on their newborns and I was not? I was utterly terrified. What if my initial thoughts on not wanting children had manifested themselves? I sat and watched as midwives, physios, and hearing test staff came and went. I clock watched wondering when we would be able to go home as i consoled myself in the hope that getting Olivia home would sound everything down.

We returned home later that day and my mind was taken away from what I should have been feeling by the hustle and bustle of family and friends visiting. As everyone left and we went to bed though I still could not make fist of my emotions. I turned over away from Suzanne and could feel my eyes welling up. They were the most peculiar tears; not based on any identifiable trigger - not sadness, not joy, not fear. I was bereft. I sobbed myself to sleep that night. Then I woke up, and my whole world changed. I don't know what happened that night, I don't know if it was the prayers, the compassionate touch from Suz, the rest, but I awoke with the most logical and more importantly, understandable, set of emotions I had ever had. I turned to Suz and felt a tremendous sense of pride in what she had achieved, the pain and angst she'd gone through in order to give me the most precious gift one could ever be given. I turned to Olivia and was instantly showered with joy, relief, and a sense of pride that I couldn't even begin to describe. I, almost in a fleeting moment, fell completely totally and utterly in love with her. I stared her in the eyes and the last 9 months flashed before me. The phone call from Suz to say she was pregnant, the tears, the joy, the pain that had surrounded the pregnancy. I was smitten. Before me was the most amazing thing I had ever seen in my life, and more amazing than anything else was the knowledge she was mine. I cannot even begin to describe how much this moment meant to me. It almost felt like my whole life had been a pivot to that very minute. Olivia Alexandra Reed, my daughter.

Sleep. When?

Perhaps it's nature's way of preparing one for impending parenthood but it's difficult to fathom a reason why, of late, neither of us can get more than a few hours of sleep a night. What's more is that our dreams (or nightmares as they would be more accurately described) are in sync which doesn't lend itself to a great nights sleep. Most vivid bizarre dreams too. Last night I woke up in a stress because I had missed my flight to Ireland, and couldn't find the key to someone else's front door. It was the 4th flight of the week because, for some reason, I'd been flying out there every day. How utterly random!

So many people have said to me, "enjoy your full nights of sleep while they last, because you won't get any soon." What full nights of sleep? The only good nights of sleep I've had are the ones where Suz and I have been in separate rooms. It's odd that the synching doesn't seem to pass through walls. It's like Suzy's bluetooth doesn't quite have the range to span to the next room.

Don't get me wrong, it's still joyous to behold this wonderful thing blessing my life. I just wish the run up to parent intentional was not paved with such a lack of sleep.

On a lighter note, baby based procurement is well and truly in full swing now and it's quite surreal to have a pram sat in the kitchen, with 3 and a bit months to go before the baby is transported to the other side. We even have a wardrobe, shelves, and a chest of drawers dedicated to Baby Reed. Thankfully 50% of the relationship is unlike me as, had it been left to me to plan, we would be 'popping in' to Tesco's on the way to labour to get some nappies. Seriously, we would.

Trimester? I thought that was a term in an American School?

Benjamin Franklin said, "A ship under sail and a big-bellied woman, are the handsomest two things that can be seen common." Of course, he was referring to pregnancy. From afar, perhaps a large waddling pregnant woman isn't the most attractive of sights, but to see that growth and to contemplate on the reasons behind the waddle make it one of the most beautiful things imaginable. Perhaps this is not the case for the person carrying, but I doubt there are a great deal of people in this world who actually consider themselves beautiful and take a daily look in the mirror and think 'yes, I am deeply attractive.' Seeing Suzanne fills me with joy because the visual impact spells out the future to come, and what's more, a future that I had a hand in creating, and one that I am 50% responsible for carving out. A more magical feeling there is not.

23 weeks have passed since that phone call in York, and pregnancy is now the topic of everywhere we go together. Be it the baby kicking and those around us fascination with said kicking or Suzanne's incessant need for the toilet, it's at the forefront of everything we do. As weeks go by, parts of our lives are changing. From a new car to a re-arrangement of furniture to suit a newborn baby, everything around us centers around only one thing.

And that's where we catch up to the now, and this actually becomes a blog! Who knows if I will keep updating. Who knows if anyone will actually read this. But I hope I do, and I hope you do.

Parenthood Intentional

He loved three things alone:
White peacocks, evensong,
Old maps of America.
He hated children crying,
And raspberry jam with his tea,
And womanish hysteria.
… And he married me

Words penned by Anna Akhmatova, a Russian Poet. Words that I simply adore, not particularly because I like Russian Poets, no, because those words convey a sense of understanding between her and the person whom she loved and they are reflective of my life with Suzanne, and I have no doubt, every other person that is married. You see, when you get married you begin to realise that your love for your partner is not just based on commonality but on things you actually don't agree on. It's what makes for enthused debate and it's oft' what brings colour to the relationship. Agreeance (I know, it's not a word, but remember, my blog. So ner.) on everything creates a sort of muted dull pasture for your relationship to graze on and is unlikely to contribute to a fruitful and happy relationship.

But there are exceptions. In my case it was the want for more children. That's children intentional, as oppose to children inherited. I married at 24, which I always felt was the right age, but I had never given much thought as to what age I thought was best to have children. I never felt grown up enough at 24, nor 25, nor 26 for that matter. It began to dawn on me however that it was not a numerical restriction I was facing, it was my own attitude to parenthood and that I felt I was either not ready or perhaps unwilling to take on further commitment. I was holding on to what every boy desperately clings on to; childhood. If I had a child of my own, it meant I will have left something behind. I would become the parent. The prospect of this terrified me. I had lost so much of my childhood owing to domestic carnage in my family and the resulting necessity to completely grow up in my early teens. I was under the notion that I could re-do what I missed. Live out the life I lost. But as time passed I realised that what's behind you is just that; water under the bridge if you will. Time does not stand still for any man, woman, or child, but there is a saving grace. That grace is that becoming a parent doesn't mean you have to properly grow up. It was the visit of my sister in law and her children (and probably more apt, her husband, who is yet to grow up) that convinced me of this. It was then that I made the decision to enter into the realm of parenthood intentional.

A few months passed, then a year, then a year and a few months and it happened. Suzanne fell pregnant. The glee I felt the day she told me couldn't ever be put into words. It's simply something you have to experience for yourself to understand. I was in York, away with work, and I can remember every sight, smell and movement of that moment when she called me. Truly blissful.

Parenthood Inherited.

Suz and I married, and moved in together. That's kind of what happens, normally.

What doesn't normally happen is that you become a parent, instantly. You see Suzanne had a child from her past marriage, Devin, who was 5. I had an idea what marriage would be like, I had an idea what living with someone would be like, I had no idea what parenthood was like. I didn't even have younger brothers or sisters to use as a metric. My three sisters were at least 9 years older than me. I was thrust into a world at the end where the olympic diving boards were placed. I wasn't afforded the option of a gentle ease in, nor was I given the opportunity to see how it went. This was it. For good.

I am pleased to say that as months progressed, as years went by (3 and a half as I write this) things went remarkably well. Yes, we suffered trials and tribulations; being a step dad is not easy. You are oft' between a rock and hard place, being unsure of your true place in the scheme of things and often at the peril of the diposition of 'the other side' family, but, that aside, it's something that can enrich and enhance your life in a way I could never have imagined.

So with parenthood inherited under my belt I was left with only one logical forward step. Become a real dad. And this is where this blog shall begin.

Where it all began

Before I got married I had six theories about bringing up children; now I have six children, and no theories. John Wilmot, poet and second earl of Rochester uttered those very words some 300 years ago. Words which stand completely upright and true today. I know this, because I became an 'inherited parent' some 4 years ago. You see, I met this girl called Suzanne, and the rest, as they say, is history.

This blog is a story, portrayal, whatever you'd like to call it of those 4 years and eventually I'll catch up to today and actually write a blog, rather than a precursor (I know, precursor is the wrong word to use, but it's my blog, so ner.)

Where DID it begin, oh Paulie? I hear you ask. Well I'll tell you.

"You need a woman. No offense, but you're not the kind of person who can live a single life." Words uttered by Chris, who would become my best man less than a year later. He was right, I did need a woman in my life. I had however spent nearly a year with nobody and had resigned myself to the boyfriend dustbin. You see, I'm an odd character, idiosyncratic, goofy looking, portly; I'm hardly Mr Pitt, and I settled for this, not wishing to change the way I was or looked in a vain effort to attract a mate. No, I thought to myself, she will come, and she will like me for who I am. Except she didn't come, despite my best efforts to seek her out, she was not there. I gave up. Single life can't be that bad, I thought. No, correction, I tried to convince myself despite not believing it for a second. I met a few girls, they liked me, I liked them, and then it flopped, spectacularly. I was no good at this.

Several months passed and I became friends with Steve, someone my own age, someone equally as lonely and resigned. Steve and I spent a fair bit of time together and eventually I ended up being introduced to his friend, who was about to move to Ireland. Suzanne was a divorcee, had a little boy aged 4 and was about to move to Ireland. Three things that, in theory, put her out of the availability circle. Something about her intrigued me though, something about how she interacted with people, how she seemed so comfortable in herself. Not only did this intrigue me, it also attracted me in a way I'd never been attracted to someone before. Weeks passed, and we saw more and more of each other and the reality that she was moving to Ireland struck me hard enough for me to think very carefully about how I actually felt about her. I was smitten, in love if you will, and I felt that if I didn't make a move now, I would lose her to the bouncing Leprechaun's and Guinness. So I told her how I felt. I'll spare you the fodder in between (not that it was fodder of course, should Suzanne be reading this; it was actually a most enjoyable part of my life, but I'm sure nobody is interested in reading it) but the conclusion was that we were married a few months later. Suzy never did move to Ireland, by the way. Their loss my gain!