insomnia & fathering

I'm in the haze a series of sleep-interrupted nights creates, and my brian is slowed. Slowed to that point where you stare at things for no real reason, and when you realise you are doing it you regain your focus, look somewhere else, and then blur again into the distance. Productive it is not, and as my computer screen becomes that blur I realise another post on superchilled might just bite the dust. 

Part of the insomnia is a parenthood thing, part of it is work - but the combination of the two creates one formidable zombiesque state. 

One thing that is crystal clear is that entering into co-parenting means you're going to be asked a LOT OF THE SAME QUESTIONS over and over again. It gets to the point where you either just omit mentioning the co-parenting status in the introduction of one's entry into parenthood, step right into a description of what it all means right down to living arrangements, or wait for the questions to fly in, some with an air of "Do you know what you're getting into?" or alternatively "I can't see that this is going to be healthy for the child."And usually dispelled by the end of said conversation. It seems it is always easier being straight where you never have to justify anything, it's considered a natural progression. And the questions more "Why aren't you having kids?" rather than "Why are you having kids?". Despite this the responses to our becoming co-parenting dads have been almost uniformly encouraging and supportive, which is sensational. Certainly being a dad is a lot of fun and the work of nappy changes, feeding & the like doesn't feel at all like work. Although at 3 am one's enthusiasm can be a little less focussed. 

And to avoid ongoing sleep deprivation I'm headed to bed.

London Preppy - is he back?

One of my favourite blogs has been London Preppy - linked from superchilled for some time now. He has  lived and died and lived and died a few times, but it seems the messiah returns to the same channel, different time, same quirkiness (or is that bizarreness?) but certainly well written (& at times photographed or videoed)  and entertaining escapes from the every day. Catch him while he's still up and about. Click here, or from his blog link in the right column ->. 

Many apologies for a decided lack of input here of late. Things are on track for more classic superchilled in the near future. 

A Long Weekend of Beautiful Surf

The long weekend here has ended. Unusually we have not flown away for it. But there's something to be said for staying home. Here was what we woke up to most mornings. 

12 seconds - yep that's all.

I even ventured in for a surf myself and a few swims on top of that. It's been a busy time of late getting to know young Amélie and keeping everything else happening in the background. A little time out was fantastic, and for me there's nothing quite like escaping in the winter to a surprisingly warm, crystal clear surf. It's like heaven for me, true bliss. And on the beach and in the surf there have been an assortment of eye catching men. Damn it. 

I'm looking forward to more weekends like this. Lots more. 

Late night lock-out

I was hoping we'd escaped it here in Australia, but it seems we haven't.

Driving home from the city last night I stopped in to fill up with fuel and buy milk at the petrol station in Heathcote, one of Sydney's most southern suburbs. Once filled with fuel I headed to the store to search for the milk... the main doors were locked and had a sign directing me to the night counter... A bank like system of glass wall and steel drawers with microphone sound through which to transact. No more in-store purchases. I had to request the milk I wanted which was then passed into the small drawer in a plastic bag and out to me standing outside. Even the credit card reader was put into the drawer, wires attached, for me to swipe away then sign in the drawer... The attendant was personable at least, I think, the tones of his voice not too well transmitted through the sound system. And I left feeling cold and clinical. Of course when I got home I discovered I had the wrong milk.

We've stepped back in time and ahead all at once. I'd purchased fuel this way in the States & in France in the past, but it's a new thing here. A sign of the times I guess, and if I were an attendant I'd feel much more secure, but it's a depressing thing for me. I don't feel like I live in a dangerous world, but these changes suggest that I've been a little lucky or equally naive. I'm sure the next thing is no store at all, and an unmanned, credit card operated fuel pump... Progress can be quite an impersonal thing at times.