Wednesday, 19 November 2014

Paying the bills

Well, life is weird... I've been playing with the maths for a while now (I even found an online calculator (see the link): and it turns out that I don't earn enough to pay nursery fees for two kids... on balance, I'd be paying out over £1000/year just to go to work... and I'd need to be on 30,000 a year with a job that I could walk to just to be working for free!, So, come the new year when Sarah's career starts to get back on track (lecturing at Trent), I'll be managing the kids and the house.

In many ways I'm looking forward to it (as the kids are great and I often feel I don't get the time with them I'd like). It's going to be a brilliant adventure and I'm going to get to learn a lot from my kids.

Two things bug me... firstly, I am disappointed that, in my 30s, I'm not at the stage career/financially where there was completely free choice... it would appear that the universities I attended were rather over optimistic when discussing "graduate career trajectory" (I won't name and shame, but I'd take legal action if I thought I could win).

The second thing that bugs me is government policy... every nursery we've asked at has said "don't worry about the cost, there's tax credits". This is not true for us, our combined income would be such that we wouldn't get ANY government help. This is irritating because the nurseries all assume state help when pricing their services and we're in the zone between "low paid enough to get help" and "rich enough that it doesn't matter".

I will still be professionally active (part-time), but until September 2018, I'll probably be on my mobile or at home rather than in the office.

Monday, 11 August 2014

To scale

We celebrated the kid’s 2nd birthday on Saturday with a trip to Sundown. This theme park has a lot of notoriety as my favourite location: mum never used to make it much past the lost child collection point as I’d disappear off into miniature villages where adults couldn’t and lose the tail. As a result there was a degree of trepidation as we set off.

En route we saw a car half dangling in a roadside ditch, and seeing a kiddie-seat in the back, I stopped and half-pushed, half-lifted the car back onto the road with the help of another passing motorist... the other family were lost on the way to Sundown so then we had a convoy! Once through the gates of the park, we began to explore a range of miniature and not-so-miniature challenges which the kid loved. They now have two large buildings PACKED with soft-play together with all the rides and adventures I remember from 25 years ago. I’m delighted to say that I had as much fun running round and ‘supervising’ the child as he did playing, and it was quite magical to experience the place from his perspective.

He’s started talking more lately, and the whole day was quite the action packed way to see just what he could say and communicate. He was effusive about being able to “drive” on one of the rides, and talked all through the day, only lapsing into tears once when surprised by a squirting pirate on the barrel ride. My wife has a signed copy of David Crystal’s Listen to Your Child which she refers to quite religiously and is thrilled to report that in many ways the kid is ahead of the curve linguistically... as the old line goes - getting him to be quiet is the real trick!

Part of the secret to a good day out is not just listening to the kid, but letting him have the freedom to be himself. I realised at last why Sundown was magical as a kid... everything is to scale, and whilst and adult may find the rides simplistic and the doorways challengingly small... for a child it’ probably their first experience of walking through a door their size and having information presented on their level.


Thursday, 20 June 2013

An anachronism against Mumsnet!

I've been quiet for a while. That's partly because raising the child and doing the day job have both taken up a vast chunck of my time recently. It's also because I've been thinking through my online presence as a dad in light of the recent clash with the denizens of mumsnet.

For those of you reading this from overseas, mumsnet needs a bit of explaining. From a user perspective its like Reddit for permanently aggrieved matriarchs who feel that just because they've given birth, they're entitled to vent collectively on subjects ranging from foreign policy through to school dinners. People post about everything from their partner's sexual preferences (I think he'd prefer someone who wasn't spending every waking moment gossiping over a digital hedge about his lack of enthusiasm in the bedroom since she's had a kid and started spending 5 hours a day talking about their sex-life in online forums), their children's problems at school (If little Barry isn't being bullied yet, he certainly will be when they realise his mum posts as ParanoidNutcase1990), and what they're having for dinner (you're ordering from a takeaway... your dinner has burnt whilst you've been online!).

As you know, dear reader, I joined mumsnet as a way to have some kind of voice... not for the prissy, slightly cowed metro-dad who gives a damn about what the world thinks, but for the type of dad who's aim in life is his son's happiness... after I started posting on mumsnet I lasted about a month until I got a rather snooty email and a ban (interestingly, mumsnet is a digital security nightmare, it would be possible to bot-spam the place into submission as random email addresses can be used to register with no further checking). So what were my crimes? Well, I managed to upset people... I'm not really that sorry, so I'll tell you what I said, to who, albeit with comical overtones:

Little Mz Breadline
"I'm so poor, my son's father had to buy him a coat!"
"I buy all my kid's coats, what's so bad about that?"
"I'm a single mother {sniff}"
"Yes, but not the Virgin Mary... it's still normal for dad's to buy coats... get over it.
Trying to conceive
"I really want to conceive, but my husband hasn't agreed to do the deed again"
"When you asked, were you (a) fully clothed and staring at the computer? or (b) naked and staring at his crotch? Because if it's (a) then his reasons for refusing are the same ones you give for refusing to perform fellatio during match of the day!"
The Management
"We read your blog."
"That's nice... didn't you do that months ago, before approving me?
"Not really, blog approval is all about metrics, so we'd approve anything that contained enough uses of the word "child" "parent" and "hormones" initially. The thing is, we've had a couple of complaints, and we don't think it's right that you're part of the mumsnet community?
"Any particular reason? Is it my lack of self-pity and sense of entitlement? Or perhaps I haven't clicked enough revenue generating ads?"
"Well... both!"

So there we have it, a parting of the ways. Mumsnet will always be sadly ironic... they've decided that they're going to protest against the bounty packs being given out in hospitals, whilst simultaneously attempting to monopolise the online and spending patterns of thousands of parents who "just want the best for their child". They host content generated by a variety of less than child- or liver-friendly product promotions (at the moment it's Gin!) following a marketing strategy devised by the nice people at EngageSciences who explain exactly how mumsnet work in a clever little flowchart on their website entitled "Social Marketing's Secret Sauce". Mumsnet are not an advocacy group, they're not a parenting club, they're not a social conscience. They're an ingenious way to turn slightly vulnerable mothers into readily profiled fish in a barrel for marketers to exploit, and by targeting bounty, they're not helping mums, they're eliminating the competition.


Tuesday, 16 April 2013

Creating space for kids

I'm sure that plenty of touchy-feely readers have dialled into this expecting me to harp on about kids emotional well-being, so we may as well get the disappointment out of the way early. I grew up in a house where we were briefed on the rules and rights in much the same way that Tom Hanks informed his co-star in Turner and Hooch "this is not your room". Emotional space is a by-product of physical space which is why it was important that Harry Potter got out of the under-stairs cupboard in time for discovering girls and hormones (not to mention his magic wand). As I have also been informed that I can't just sling a hammock under the stairs for my little child (which is a shame, as I'd already gone to the trouble of carpeting the space) I'm busy transforming the house into a child friendly area, complete with his own bedroom. My order of play is safety, then function, then aesthetics. Like most parents I'm working to a budget and many of the things I want to do I think about very carefully.

The next project is the design and installation of a bedroom for the boy. This is going to be quite the undertaking, not least because the people we brought the house from were the type to hide rather than fix their D.I.Y. mistakes.

Here's my game plan for doing the room:

Start from Scratch
The first thing you'll want to do when planning a child's room is to strip everything right back to blank walls. This will give you a clear idea of what you've got to work with. For us this means ripping out some rather crude fitted wardrobes (then replacing a missing floorboard one of them was hiding!). Next the room will be repainted and carpeted. Then I'll be kneeling down and looking at the room from that height as anything I put in place is for the benefit of someone much shorter. This means that any shelves or cupboards up high are going to be out of reach of the child, and his desk and bed need to be scaled in some way. I'm thinking about light, warmth and comfort and the bed is going opposite the window towards the centre of the house (where he'll have good views, but fairly static temperatures). I have tried to place everything round the walls as it leaves an area of carpet free for play and my son's favourite headless chicken impersonation. To avoid a14 year old being marooned in a Buzz Lightyear bed, children's furniture is going to be neutral so that he can exert his own personality with changeable posters, stickers and bedding. I am building him a cabin bed and ladder, because I always wanted one as a kid, and I'm making the assumption that his friends will find it cool too.
Think of the future
I hinted at this above. Your baby will not be a baby forever, and their teenage self may not appreciate living in a room that reflects their infantile love of comedy sheep. Avoid incorporating anything into the fabric of the room that will require a complete gut and refit in future. You may not have the time to do that kind of work and some kids change their preferences very quickly. My preference is for plain painted walls and good quality wooden furniture, with as much made in house as possible.
Know your limits
My dad is capable of building a table out of some old stuff he found in a skip, some spare wood and a couple of hours work. He's got tools for everything and knows how to use them. Importantly, from my perspective, he's giving me a helping hand doing some of the larger jobs round the house. Without these skills (and the extra pair of hands) some of my more ambitious plans would have to be reined in, rather than risk creating something that at best is ugly and at worst is unsafe. Do not try to do anything that is beyond the capabilities of your body (e.g. heavy lifting) or skill-set when there are perfectly reasonable alternatives. You can usually achieve a good balance between your ideas and affordable high street offerings to avoid the 3 year long apprenticeship in joinery you'd follow before successfully crafting your first set of drawers.

There are other projects ongoing. A leaky radiator needs fixing, and a new extension will be built, and then, hopefully, we can have another addition to the family (probably a dog!). That's all for now, feel free to comment on your experiences of DIY for kids below. I'll follow up with a photo-timeline once I've finished.


Wednesday, 10 April 2013


I’ve just written a guest post at kiddycharts. So if you’re missing your blog fix head on over there.

Kiddycharts is run by Helen Neale and I think she might be onto something... when we were kids the dog would sometimes manage to get fed twice buy pulling a hungry face at whoever was late home after she’d licked her bowl clean. Kids are even more devious so having some way to keep score whilst you’re focused on the rest of your life is massively important if you don’t want to be conned by your own kids, just remember to keep the stickers up high.


Friday, 5 April 2013


In the eyes of his mother, there are times when the boy is "my child" (most recently when he defecated with such force that it exuded from the sides and back of his nappy, and then tried to eat the new paste-like substance he found in his inflatable toy-pit), and there are other times when my wife insists that he's "her son", normally when he's doing something nondescript like sleeping peacefully. The baby can also have his descriptor altered in a subversive and manipulative manner.

Sometimes it's "my baby needs me" when avoiding a tricky conversation (yes, he might want a little attention, but as we're not American and our kids don't have guns, a yes/no question could be answered before dashing to rescue him from his own imagination. I've also heard "your son has given me a headache", which sounds good in principle, but if my contribution to his DNA really did causing headaches of that magnitude, he'd never have been conceived. Women do this on autopilot, and some get very aggressive with their willingness to use the possessive to apportion blame(ask any witness (divorce lawyer), or perpetrator (a single mother who's discovered feminism thanks to the aforementioned donation of DNA).

Men aren't hard-wired for this form of psychological warfare, and are rarely comfortable with alternately describing a child (or pregnancy) as something that's been imposed on a woman against her will, or that she's uniquely qualified to deal with by dint of her anatomy (interestingly, once the child's born, they can only claim to be uniquely qualified if they're breast feeding, but I wouldn't suggest pointing that out to anyone face to face). I am genuinely in love with my wife, and think the kid's amazing, and that actually makes it more difficult to play the game of prerogative that women want to play. After much more than a year (counting pregnancy and the life of the child) here's the tricks I've learnt that might help redress the balance.

When you feel you're about to be blamed for a particularly horrendous infantile act, pre-empt and take credit with a hearty "that's my boy/girl". The mother will then be left with only a rueful smile as she can't blame you when you're "acknowledging and accounting" for your fault. Similarly, when the baby is doing something nice, pre-empt with something along the lines of "I knew your child would be peaceful/cute/happy" or (and we're moving onto underwater-ninja-pistol level skills here lads) "they look just like you when they're peaceful... it reminds me of when we first started spending time together and I'd watch you sleep." This will earn you mega-points as you are paying an indirect compliment, it also saves you having to listen to a similar comment being made in that whiny tone that flays your masculinity from your bones!

Verbally I've always struggled to find the right balance in situations. Whilst my wife was pregnant she had her toe-nails painted and claimed that it was "the only thing she'd done for herself in ages".

My repost was perfectly logical and funny to everyone in the room except for my wife (I'm sure that "my baby" was sniggering away in utero and I found it hilarious); I said "Well, that was a waste of time, you can't see your toes any more!"

She burst into tears, and in that moment I had an instant of pure zen... it was like being in The Matrix: I'd known for a while that she wanted a girl (I'd also seen the ultrasound images and my family history, and knew that it wasn't likely) so I said "don't be upset, you'll worry our daughter". I'd never referred to him as a girl before or since, so the response was instant smiles, happiness and hugs all round (the end justifies the means). Rather than pour more oil on the fire, I wont tell you how much more post-baby sex you'll get if you start hinting that "next time we'll have a boy/girl [delete as applicable)" {oops}.

So there we have it men, your briefing on how to turn prerogative and gender in your favour. I'm feminist authors everywhere will be outraged that I'd encourage you to be so calculating, but the alternative really is pretty grim, and as an aside to all the women out there who are about to get enraged, read it through again, slowly, and ask yourself "would it help and make me feel better?" before starting to harangue.


Wednesday, 3 April 2013

Salt pillars

Life is full of dilemmas. I don't mean the choice between two evils we get taught about in school, but the binary choices we make that have exclusive outcomes. For example, it's possible to travel to London or Edinburgh for the weekend and both are nice places, but you can't be in two places at the same time.

One of my favourite poems touches on this theme perfectly, The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

The step into parenthood is like this, it's a road that you can walk down where there's no going back. It's why people who loose their kids to tragedy take on a listless, broken quality, because the ground really has opened up right under them. Most of us will never have to suffer like that, but should still be mindful that there is no going back, after all who wants to become a pillar of salt (occasionally the theology degree comes back to haunt me!). My past of derring-do and colourful adventures becomes the stories that will entertain and inspire Harris.

I've seen snow in a desert, flown a fighter jet, been awarded a medal, won a knife fight (there was one knife, and the other guy had it to start with), saved a couple of lives, and perhaps most importantly, been willing time and time again to travel to far away places with only my somewhat distended baggage allowance (I travelled often enough to perfect a wardrobe that gave me an extra 30kg!) for extended periods of time to face the unknown or, in the case of some former students, the unknowledgeable which in a strange way is far more challenging). Honestly, being a dad is so much better and I wouldn't go back even if I could. After all, as someone who's always tried to live like an action hero, this is my chance to train a sidekick.