The eternal question, right? And that’s what my seven year old presented me with at 7 o clock this morning.
No sooner had he sat up in his bed and rubbed his eyes had he said,
“Why do people break up?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, Auntie Stacey and Carlos broke up for a while didn’t they? And you and my mum broke up didn’t you? And my friend’s Mum and Dad are breaking up. Loads of people break up!”
“Sometimes it just doesn’t work out like it should. Or like you want it to,” I told him.
“Why?” his response... I should have expected that.
“Lots of reasons. Sometimes people change or decide they want different things. Like your Mum wanted to be in Russia and I wanted to be in England. And Carlos wanted to be in Brazil but Auntie Stacey wanted to be in England, for example.”
He pondered it and said nothing for a few minutes. As we ate breakfast he then asked,
“Well what about my friend’s Mum and Dad. None of them want to live in Brazil or Russia. They both live here.”
“It’s not always where people want to live. Sometimes people just don’t love people anymore. Or they decide they want to do different things or be with a different type of person. Sometimes they fight and that makes them split up.”
“Well,” he told me, “When I am grown up I’m going to find someone who will always love me and then I won’t have to break up will I?”
I smiled. Children have the most beautiful dreams.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
I Dreamt of You
I dreamt of you last night,
Of the moment you arrive
And lie in my arms
For the first time.
I dreamt of that sensation,
Elation and fear,
Protectiveness.
Unconditional and instant love.
I dreamt of him looking at you
At your tiny little face
And him knowing too
That he, your brother,
Will look after you.
We'll all look after you.
Of the moment you arrive
And lie in my arms
For the first time.
I dreamt of that sensation,
Elation and fear,
Protectiveness.
Unconditional and instant love.
I dreamt of him looking at you
At your tiny little face
And him knowing too
That he, your brother,
Will look after you.
We'll all look after you.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Parenting is Nothing to do with Biology!
Blood does not make a parent.
That probably seems like the most obvious statement in the world to make, right? But you would be surprised just how many people tend to devalue or overlook Chloe's role in my son's life just because she is not his biological Mother.
What the fuck does DNA matter?
My son's biological Mother was a doting, wonderful and very loving Mother. The boy was her life. But we unfortunately lost her in 2009. That's not to say Chloe would ever replace his Mother. Never. But he is her son. And no, not because they share any genes, but because, if not me, then it is her he goes to seeking comfort. It's her he goes to with questions or silly jokes he heard at school, or her whose lap he crawls into for a cuddle in front of the TV. He feels like she is his Mother.
He started calling her "Mum," quite recently, not at the expense of his biological Mum's memoriy, though. She too remains "Mum," to him. We didn't push this move on him or even encourage it. We left him to his own choices to establish for himself the way he wanted to refer to Chloe and the role he wanted to offer her in his life, to an extent. He invited her in and after months and months of referring to her "Chloe," just suddenly started calling her "Mum" occasionally... then more frequently until now, where it's more unusla for him to NOT call her "Mum."
But people have not all been supportive or even happy about it. Why? Because of biology.
Once married, Chloe and I (and very much with my boy's approval) will set the wheels in motion for CHloe to adopt my son. I want her to have legal guardianship rights and she wants the responsibilities that come with that.
So screw the opinions of people who devalue the role of step parents. You know what a parent is to me? It's someone who will unconditionally love a child, who will eternally support and encourage a child, who adds to a child's knowledge, experiences, who cleans up the spilled milk and spilled tears and delights in every smile that child enjoys.
I know a few amazing step parents. And this is for Chloe and for them too.
You guys are inspiring to me.
That probably seems like the most obvious statement in the world to make, right? But you would be surprised just how many people tend to devalue or overlook Chloe's role in my son's life just because she is not his biological Mother.
What the fuck does DNA matter?
My son's biological Mother was a doting, wonderful and very loving Mother. The boy was her life. But we unfortunately lost her in 2009. That's not to say Chloe would ever replace his Mother. Never. But he is her son. And no, not because they share any genes, but because, if not me, then it is her he goes to seeking comfort. It's her he goes to with questions or silly jokes he heard at school, or her whose lap he crawls into for a cuddle in front of the TV. He feels like she is his Mother.
He started calling her "Mum," quite recently, not at the expense of his biological Mum's memoriy, though. She too remains "Mum," to him. We didn't push this move on him or even encourage it. We left him to his own choices to establish for himself the way he wanted to refer to Chloe and the role he wanted to offer her in his life, to an extent. He invited her in and after months and months of referring to her "Chloe," just suddenly started calling her "Mum" occasionally... then more frequently until now, where it's more unusla for him to NOT call her "Mum."
But people have not all been supportive or even happy about it. Why? Because of biology.
Once married, Chloe and I (and very much with my boy's approval) will set the wheels in motion for CHloe to adopt my son. I want her to have legal guardianship rights and she wants the responsibilities that come with that.
So screw the opinions of people who devalue the role of step parents. You know what a parent is to me? It's someone who will unconditionally love a child, who will eternally support and encourage a child, who adds to a child's knowledge, experiences, who cleans up the spilled milk and spilled tears and delights in every smile that child enjoys.
I know a few amazing step parents. And this is for Chloe and for them too.
You guys are inspiring to me.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
For My Mother
I wrote this on Sunday...which marked 5 years since I lost my Mother. Sometimes it just helps to brain dump. And sometimes it helps for those closest to us to have access to those brain dumps. This is for those people :)
Today marks 5 years since we lost you. Half a decade. 5 years of change, transition....
When you took your last breaths, all that was on your mind was your children. Would we be ok. Would I look after my little sister? Would she look after me? Would we be damaged, as people, losing both our parents?
I know how it hurt you to leave and not for yourself. For us. You believed fully in your heart that you were headed to a Heaven where you would be reunited with my Father, the love of your life, your soulmate. I hope you were right.
"Look after her," you said to me as my sister stood next to me a coulpe of days after you told us you were to die.
"Look after him," you then went on to say to her.
You made some accurate observations about us both. You predicted things for our future that I thought were just insane back then but that all seem to be coming to fruition.
I miss you just as much today as I missed you on the very first morning that I woke up to a world without you, Mum. I'm a self-confessed Mother's boy and I am actually quite proud of it. Just because you're no longer here doesn't mean that changes.
I'm still lost without you, but I manage much better these days to navigate my way around. I even smile :) I want YOU to know that I am HAPPY. It took a long time. But I was given some wonderful gifts in the years following your death. A son and, more recently, a wife-to-be.
I find myself saying things you said to me to your Grandson. You'd love him. He's cheeky, clever and very sweet. And beneath that cheeky (almost cocky) facade of his, is a perfect little gentleman who is more sensitive than he really knows how to deal with yet. He's got some front, that's for sure. But he's just a baby. And when the day is done and he's got his PJs on, it's "snuggles on the couch time." Whenh e wakes from a bad dream, he's just a tiny little boy seeking comfort. Despite that (a little bit too) smart head on his shoulders, he is a baby. No amount of intelligence can equip him to deal with what he's been through. But I've drawn on experience of my own and putting myself in his little tiny shoes has made it all the easier for me to be able to understand what he is going through.
He was the same age when he lost his Mother as I was when we lost Dad. Although I chose to forget I even remembered for many years, I dug deep and found those memories and used them to help him. We talk candidly and openly now about you, about Anje and about my Dad. He has a picture of you in his bedroom and calls you his "Pretty Nanna." It's adorable. I've never been one to believe in an afterlife, but he knows things about you that I have never told him and tells me tales of night time visitors that don't scare him. I can never know how much of that is his imagination or how much of it is really true. Do you hold is hand in the night time?
And the other big announcement in my life is my wedding in May. You'd be so proud. You met Chloe once, Mum. When I was at University. I may even have intropduced her as my "buddy," or something similar. But she made an impression on you as I recall you telling me later, "She would be a nice girlfriend Adam. Pretty girl, eloquent and an honest smile."
"Chloe has a GIRLfriend, Mum," I told you. And we said nothing more on the matter.
Well, times change and she is indeed a wonderful Fiancee and will be a more wonderful wife. She's a great Mother to your Grandson and I know I will never want anyone else as long as I breathe. We're talking about children (perhaps sooner rather than later). We're moving out of the city at the end of February and back out of town to a beautiful house with plenty of space and huge garden. It's a bit out of the way of the office, but it's beautiful and just what the little one needs.
And you will be pleased to know that I am indeed looking after Stacey. Her little one is almost 2. Where did that time go? He's a funny little guy and looks just like her. We're a family. We do family things and a weekly dinner, just as I know you would have wanted. And you're in our hearts, every single day, in every step we take, every word we say and in every thought that crosses our mind.
I miss you, Mum.
Always your doting son,
Adam
xxx
Today marks 5 years since we lost you. Half a decade. 5 years of change, transition....
When you took your last breaths, all that was on your mind was your children. Would we be ok. Would I look after my little sister? Would she look after me? Would we be damaged, as people, losing both our parents?
I know how it hurt you to leave and not for yourself. For us. You believed fully in your heart that you were headed to a Heaven where you would be reunited with my Father, the love of your life, your soulmate. I hope you were right.
"Look after her," you said to me as my sister stood next to me a coulpe of days after you told us you were to die.
"Look after him," you then went on to say to her.
You made some accurate observations about us both. You predicted things for our future that I thought were just insane back then but that all seem to be coming to fruition.
I miss you just as much today as I missed you on the very first morning that I woke up to a world without you, Mum. I'm a self-confessed Mother's boy and I am actually quite proud of it. Just because you're no longer here doesn't mean that changes.
I'm still lost without you, but I manage much better these days to navigate my way around. I even smile :) I want YOU to know that I am HAPPY. It took a long time. But I was given some wonderful gifts in the years following your death. A son and, more recently, a wife-to-be.
I find myself saying things you said to me to your Grandson. You'd love him. He's cheeky, clever and very sweet. And beneath that cheeky (almost cocky) facade of his, is a perfect little gentleman who is more sensitive than he really knows how to deal with yet. He's got some front, that's for sure. But he's just a baby. And when the day is done and he's got his PJs on, it's "snuggles on the couch time." Whenh e wakes from a bad dream, he's just a tiny little boy seeking comfort. Despite that (a little bit too) smart head on his shoulders, he is a baby. No amount of intelligence can equip him to deal with what he's been through. But I've drawn on experience of my own and putting myself in his little tiny shoes has made it all the easier for me to be able to understand what he is going through.
He was the same age when he lost his Mother as I was when we lost Dad. Although I chose to forget I even remembered for many years, I dug deep and found those memories and used them to help him. We talk candidly and openly now about you, about Anje and about my Dad. He has a picture of you in his bedroom and calls you his "Pretty Nanna." It's adorable. I've never been one to believe in an afterlife, but he knows things about you that I have never told him and tells me tales of night time visitors that don't scare him. I can never know how much of that is his imagination or how much of it is really true. Do you hold is hand in the night time?
And the other big announcement in my life is my wedding in May. You'd be so proud. You met Chloe once, Mum. When I was at University. I may even have intropduced her as my "buddy," or something similar. But she made an impression on you as I recall you telling me later, "She would be a nice girlfriend Adam. Pretty girl, eloquent and an honest smile."
"Chloe has a GIRLfriend, Mum," I told you. And we said nothing more on the matter.
Well, times change and she is indeed a wonderful Fiancee and will be a more wonderful wife. She's a great Mother to your Grandson and I know I will never want anyone else as long as I breathe. We're talking about children (perhaps sooner rather than later). We're moving out of the city at the end of February and back out of town to a beautiful house with plenty of space and huge garden. It's a bit out of the way of the office, but it's beautiful and just what the little one needs.
And you will be pleased to know that I am indeed looking after Stacey. Her little one is almost 2. Where did that time go? He's a funny little guy and looks just like her. We're a family. We do family things and a weekly dinner, just as I know you would have wanted. And you're in our hearts, every single day, in every step we take, every word we say and in every thought that crosses our mind.
I miss you, Mum.
Always your doting son,
Adam
xxx
Friday, January 7, 2011
Stories
Stories haven't always been sad. The ones you read when you were a kid were never sad, I bet. Or at least they would never have ended sadly.
I remember reading one about a dog. I was six or so. A few pages in the dog went missing and the children who owned the dog were heart broken. It's amazing how few words in giant typeset are required to explain heartbreak to a child. Or perhaps it was the cartoonish images that conveyed it. But whatever. By page ten the dog was home and chewing on a bone in the company of the happiest children in the world and I closed the book smiling. I reread it more times than I can recall because I wanted to go on the same journey over and over.
I wanted to feel sad but only so that I would experience that incredible feeling of happiness at the end. And at the end of the book, nothing is any different than it is at the beginning. The children have their dog. But having lost their dog briefly that "normal" situation of having him again seems so much happier than it did at the beginning.
It's the human condition, I suppose. You have to experience life without something to know what life with it is what really makes you happy. I'm not talking about specific people. I'm talking about situations or feelings.
Like you never really appreciate NOT having a headache until you get one and then get rid of it.... I'm making no sense am I?
What I suppose this post has been a long way around saying is that I never knew I was happiest in a relationship until I lost one that meant something. I'm now the happiest I have ever been and that can largely be attributed to my son, my family and my fiancee.
I remember reading one about a dog. I was six or so. A few pages in the dog went missing and the children who owned the dog were heart broken. It's amazing how few words in giant typeset are required to explain heartbreak to a child. Or perhaps it was the cartoonish images that conveyed it. But whatever. By page ten the dog was home and chewing on a bone in the company of the happiest children in the world and I closed the book smiling. I reread it more times than I can recall because I wanted to go on the same journey over and over.
I wanted to feel sad but only so that I would experience that incredible feeling of happiness at the end. And at the end of the book, nothing is any different than it is at the beginning. The children have their dog. But having lost their dog briefly that "normal" situation of having him again seems so much happier than it did at the beginning.
It's the human condition, I suppose. You have to experience life without something to know what life with it is what really makes you happy. I'm not talking about specific people. I'm talking about situations or feelings.
Like you never really appreciate NOT having a headache until you get one and then get rid of it.... I'm making no sense am I?
What I suppose this post has been a long way around saying is that I never knew I was happiest in a relationship until I lost one that meant something. I'm now the happiest I have ever been and that can largely be attributed to my son, my family and my fiancee.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Back into Routine....
I didn't sleep last night. Not much anyway. It was 3:30am last time I checked the time and I was up at 6. So I'm feeling somewhat the worse for wear though a caffeine overdose is helping.
I wasn't thinking about anything or worrying about anything in particular. I'm just out of routine having been out of the office for almost 2 weeks. It's good to get back into routine, as even my son concurred when I got him up for his first day back at school this morning.
"Rise and shine, Mister," I said, perching myself on the end of his bed. "It's snowed again!"
Sure enough he darted out of his bed to the window to see the snow damage. Not enough to be off school but enough that he could make snowballs on his way to school.
"I'm glad I am going back to school," he told me. "I've missed my friends."
I took him in myself this morning and watched him race into the company of his buddies as if he had not seen them in years.
I remember how cool it felt to see your mates for the first time again after school holidays.
He's had an exciting break. Christmas, New Year, Uncle Craigy's wedding and his own birthday. It's been amazing. He was a pageboy at the wedding and I was best man. On the morning of the wedding as we "tuxed up," he said,
"We look good, Dad."
He loves to wear a suit or tux.... but as expected, there were holes in the knees by the end of the day as he took it upon himself to go tree climbing in said tux!
Oh well... I remember being there too!
So it has been an eventful couple of weeks for both me and my boy. And now, back into routine. It's going to be a busy year....
I wasn't thinking about anything or worrying about anything in particular. I'm just out of routine having been out of the office for almost 2 weeks. It's good to get back into routine, as even my son concurred when I got him up for his first day back at school this morning.
"Rise and shine, Mister," I said, perching myself on the end of his bed. "It's snowed again!"
Sure enough he darted out of his bed to the window to see the snow damage. Not enough to be off school but enough that he could make snowballs on his way to school.
"I'm glad I am going back to school," he told me. "I've missed my friends."
I took him in myself this morning and watched him race into the company of his buddies as if he had not seen them in years.
I remember how cool it felt to see your mates for the first time again after school holidays.
He's had an exciting break. Christmas, New Year, Uncle Craigy's wedding and his own birthday. It's been amazing. He was a pageboy at the wedding and I was best man. On the morning of the wedding as we "tuxed up," he said,
"We look good, Dad."
He loves to wear a suit or tux.... but as expected, there were holes in the knees by the end of the day as he took it upon himself to go tree climbing in said tux!
Oh well... I remember being there too!
So it has been an eventful couple of weeks for both me and my boy. And now, back into routine. It's going to be a busy year....
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Happy New Year
I have had the most wonderful Christmas and New Year. It’s almost over, which is sad, though we still have our Argentine and Russian dates to mark on the evenings of 6th and 7th respectively.
I go back to the office Tuesday (4th) and my little boy (now 7!) goes back to school the same day.
We enjoyed a really amazing family festive season. He got sad a little on Christmas morning and asked if we could go to his Mother’s memorial tree, which we did. Turns out he just wanted to say “Merry Christmas,” to her and after that he was fine. This year provided such a wonderful festive season that I could actually cry (yep, man point loss) thinking about it again. I’ve never felt happiness like I’m feeling it now.
Last night, before we left for our New Year meal (we had a family New Year too) my son came into mine and Chloe’s room asking,
“Dad, Mum... do I have to wear my shoes or can I wear my trainers?”
It was a simple question. But “Dad, Mum,” was something he’s never really put in a sentence like that referring to me and Chloe. I looked at her for some sort of instant reaction to find out whether she was comfortable with this. I had no need to doubt. She answered his question before I could:
“You should really wear your shoes with your smart pants, sweetheart.”
“Ok thanks! I thought so too.” And he trotted out.
Then she cried. Happy tears, granted, but she cried. It was a pretty moving moment and we have both decided not to make a fuss of with our son. He’s obviously made a decision in his mind and we’re going to let it be, happily. He continued to refer to her as “Mum,” through the night for the most part and that has continued today. Today, she and him have gone bowling while my sister and I made some time for our Mother. We spent a couple of hours in the cemetery this afternoon.
I don’t make resolutions at New Year. I just never have. Though this year I made something of a “to do,” and a “not to do” list, which I suppose kind of counts.
- - Get married (of course)!
- - Give my sister away ( not in a mean way, she is getting married too)
- - Spend at least one weekend per month away with my Fiancee and my son
I have also decided to continue with my “limited online personal time” approach of the latter weeks of 2010. I decided, given how much time my business requires me to spent on the Internet in the office, that my personal time would not be eaten up by it. I have not logged in to Second Life in weeks, I let the freebie store parcel go... I never keep up with my SL blog. I have it on its own domain, www.pixelscoop.net, with a good number of subscribers and a great history. But I don’t use it anymore. I am thinking I might donate the domain to an institution that does charitable work in Second Life, as it gets thousands and thousands of visits a week through searches for Second Life related things, so would be good for hosting a website of an organisation like that. Will look into that.
I will continue with this blog, now and again, but for the most part I think “down time,” from the Internet is doing me the world of good. And so, while it’s working, I’m sticking with it.
I hope you had an amazing and wonderful Christmas and New Year and I hope all of your dreams and wishes for the coming 12 months are realised.
I raise a glass for you all.
Happy New Year.
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